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,
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.