Sunflower

Before my desires
with their impossible hues,
before the first wings

descend, I remember
you remembered me
even when I was silent—

my body a tarnished
pendulum in a field
of other mourners,

dark-pitted hearts.
The grossbeaks
would pluck an eye

and another eye,
their taking
a plumed rape

communal and harsh
as light glimmering
on bladed stalks.

I felt your hands
bear my losses,
you became

a gold thread pulling.
By slow degrees
my face turned.

Copyright © 2005 Karen Rigby All rights reserved
from Festival Bone
Adastra Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission