the sunflower
if i said
sunflower
might you say
vangough or
describe at
length the fields at sunset
the ones that
sell calendars
turn your head
with the sun
raise this late
september garden
when the sedum
sighs in the downing
look me in the
eye sunflower bach
turn this burning
summer into
a quilt of gold
the days of a
child’s sherbet
ah - but then then
the spondylitic
bending of the year
under the weight
of leaves turning
your necks to
nothing that harvest
can endure under
this winter cloud
oh my dried bag
of seeds
lie long in the
just-asleep
keep your pocket
of sunshine
fingered until
next summer
oh dear god how
it pains me
to see summer
bent this way
the snow and the
lowing
of a dream asleep
in a yellow bed
my dear compound-eyed
friend
i await your
return
to your promise i
will
says me too
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