Flowers, For Frank

When a friend died

From an overdose and

Strewn about, all those

Flowers. I'd never noticed

Flowers until that day

I thought in hindsight:

Alstroemeria in small

Explosions all agog

With color and swept

As the sky was with

Thick blue paste, some

Aureate calm like

A dull summer mist.

Well, the photograph of

Frank O'Hara, hand

Beneath chin like

The conqueror of my personal

Life, because before,

Pre-Frank, I hadn't noticed

Chasm between casual

And causal, though, slight

Lent me first sight, as

If seeing, parting the

Lush green leaves for

The first time, to

Really get at the day's

Meaning. Well, between

The passion I now have

For clouds and my,

That first flush of,

What nervy balm to

Carry me through that

Room, that I carried you

In my pocket, Frank

And for the first time

Really saw.

Each specific

Stitch from where it yawned

There, as I then, floating

Found new eyes.

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Copyright © 2011 Larry Sawyer All rights reserved
from Court Green
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission