About Sunflowers
When I came home, I saw what you had done.
Those funny sunflowers
spontaneously sprung
and which bordered our drive a bit too carelessly,
reaching their leafy arms a tad too far -
you'd cut them down!
You'd told me on the phone you'd cut the weeds,
and I'd been happy about that. . . until I saw
and understood.
How odd
and yet how utterly explicable it seems to me
that you would look at something bright and blond and beaming
and see a noxious weed.
The driveway looks naked now and uninviting -
similar to how I sometimes see your soul
after you cut me
to the core.
It's funny about sunflowers. . . they always come back,
sometimes to a different spot,
and grinning.
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