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gathering flowers for a girl

by David T. Gay

gathering flowers for a girl

Every day I look at larkspur on the trail,

purple as grape popsicles, and to give

you these, and yellow monkey flowers,

black round eyes hidden inside,

I meander a poem and comb the thistle

by the black water, the lake a-burn

in a western sun, gold on the hot, dry hills.

Every day I look at my fat white body

and wonder why you see my muscles,

my river-spirit, the solid, hidden stones,

or, in my hair, gray as guano, why you find

silk and thread to run your fingers through.

Why do your eyes tremble, unafraid, hoping

to wrap me in your sleeves?

Every night I'm left alone to think of you

taking my weight into yourself, warmth

springing from your chest, my flowers

holding you to what you really want,

crazy woman; not the dream but the man,

the fur and the bones, my arms to squeeze

your breath, your lips, to breathe with you.

Every night when the moon comes out

I know you think of me, I can

hear you thinking, I know you fight

to solve me as though I were a puzzle

yet I am both simple and unsolvable and these

flowers wilt and you have only a second

before you have to go, so kiss me now

there is no other spring, no Christmas

you are my everything, this red paintbrush

flower paints for you, every boy and every girl

look at each other just like this, and this is our time

to hold hands, don't think about it just

grab me, I am here to catch you, reach out

and everything you want will come true