I Asked You Where I Could Find a Sunflower

You twisted the flaxen grass

around your finger and

gave it your most radiant grin,

And from it came

with roots and shoot,

an eager little seedling.

 

What a curious wonder you have made,

this one that we share,

a sunflower wiggling from its turgid casing,

ambition produced to

Grow. Grow. Grow.

Soothed by the warmth

of our love-stirred laughter and

its blooming yellow flesh,

How cleverly disguised

were the already wilting leaves.

 

The summer cannot last forever,

and I don’t know how I can bare

this swollen pot of toxic weeds

Strapped to my hips.

I become more anxious--

aware of its threatening size,

merely a time-bomb approaching detonation.

The decaying lateral stems

are burning the images in scar tissue

of our wind ripped sunflower.

 

Dried into organic dust

to feed the hungry earth again

we bury the seeds given to us,

 our sunflower.

I drop a tear that you tell me to just leave behind,

my tribute at the altar of the sunflower.

 

You take my hand, so we can walk away

and our steps rattle the soil

a little looser,

and the Sunflower seedling giggles and wiggles in the ground.

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