Stuart Greenhouse


Sunflower, you keep brilliantly the corner
of my table     days and no wilting
to be seen     to be plucked in July small
enough for a man's table and seed
but a constellation of dreams in the soul-    
dark stem-backed chamber     you have no
fragrance to withhold     your petals flash
like drawn cutlasses     you rely on the pack
of foxglove stems     against your stem    
to hold you upright     in the wide fluted arterial of the vase
know I arranged you so     you might feel at home
and turn with the sun     but
you do not turn to my window at morning
nor to me, the only one who looks back at you,
as I walk past.


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Poem originally appeared in Copper Nickel, issue 16, Fall 2011. Reprinted with the permission of the author. All Rights Reserved.




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