Possible Answers to the Cheerful Man in the Church Lobby Offering Single-Stem Gerbera Daisies to Mothers on Mother’s Day When He Asks Are You a Mother?

I.
No. The “o” in no is for the concentric circles of death on the ultrasound—uterus, yolk sac—all
empty.

II.
Yes. It was winter and my mother said to keep our little nugget warm
and so I pulled the blanket up to my abdomen
to tuck my child into bed and keep her safe like any mother would.

III.
Yes. My daughter’s microscopic sliver of spirit
transferred to the camellia bush we planted in her memory and
when we light a candle for prayer, she’s there in the flicker.
I am mother to candle and camellia bush
and I do not need your flower.

IV.
At night I dreamt about looking for the exit
in a room where the ceiling was dripping with amniotic fluid,
that I was grabbing fistfuls of time from a napkin dispenser
and holding them to my chest
where they might have looked like daisies.

V.
Other mothers had told me it was like another room opens
in your mind and if so for me just a crack
where a tenderness leaks like the blood leaked from my womb for weeks,
so maybe just a petal from your flower please?