Flower my neck storm day sunshine
but do it kind, do it love, or if not
love, do it chrysanthemum
or squeezed neat beds of tulip heads,
Saturday morning skin, instead
of this almost scream turn blossom
hold, where your elbow dug
and pushed down dirt, then rosed again
against my throat, kissless bright
but not so pleasely, do it daffodil
sun slip, instead of this whole pink
swallow, pressed stem bending
velvet breathful, magnolia tongue fall,
all over the yard.
by Cindy Carlson
published in Shampoo 33
photo by tatomato via flickr
Robin Reagler 