A Michaelmas Daisy

 A Michaelmas Daisy

 

Years sailed by before she could be touched,

and how stung the strings of cellos plucked

in low bowing doubled, she’s sowing weeds

of wild michaelmas daisies’ flowered seed,

then does frivolous plunge such snip-stems

in remembrance that her vase surely overbrims.

 

I taught her, saw her teach; she was my peach

blossom to tumble so far distant from reach

that my tempests blew such tousles in blonde

frothed cream of utmost shore and palm frond,

bestrewn by all exposure, sullied with sorrow,

so sucked full of substance it burst with hollow.

 

I flew to her over spun gold daisy lapped lake,

whirled above shallows deep of currents made,

held hands as though she could not let us fall,

so tongued and grooved I can still feel years call

out cradled locks to dance in partnered strides,

gladly raised her up once she raised me inside.

 

But she spat out those seeds when devils called

out my pride and curled herself into needle balls

of spitting cat calls, all hackles and arched back

brow-scrawls in cursive that before she lacked,

offered scratched whip-twigged hands to snatch

shut bunker door and cabled snapdragon dispatch.

 

Still dripping sap, liquor oozing water bloomed

strong wildflowers and in blossomed perfumes

stubborn stubble geese did feast's table refuse,

sheathed warriors’ swords that I once used,

rebuffed fury long years had now misplaced.

blessed michaelmas’ wild daisy’s gentle face.