last year of sunflowers we wasted the yellow tossing it up in the air like an infant. instead, we could have held more beam & glisten. i bought you everything our land could hold. a tree of pearls. silk worms for mending ever scism in our post-helicopter skin. taking the fine china out of cabinet for a wedding attended only by ghosts. we should have at the very least, washed out faces in the glow. all your freckles turned to mouse feet. there was one on every block that year. sunflowers laughing, throwing their heads back. all sunflowers are boys. did you know that? i didn't until it was too late. here i was saying "she is dead she is dead she is." once one said to me, "you would make a wonderful monument." i nodded. i would. i consider it sometimes when you leave your socks out like unskilled coin purses. i had a jar left. just a smear. the yellow humming with memories of opening in april. i make a fist & let it relax. extend fingers wide. hold a snake skull. eat a golden apple where once used to live our coupling. i mistake insects for seeds. carried a lady bug all the way to the bowl of soil. pressed her into the dirt, dreaming she could become another flower. perfect as i used to see your lips. instead, i watch as she crawls free.