Chicory II

‚Äč

There are things
much older
than either of us should ever know
I could tell you
(without the right words) 
old as flower 
speaks color
for those without 
old as wind song in night 
sets calm
for new day
I could tell you things 
that I think 
you should hear
from someone else
but
tout bracelet
like guardian
still,
no protection from self
like reverence
for 
prayer tool
dice charm
reminder of you
& now
wear chicory
on your ankle
like bracelet
& I can convince myself 
of anything
if I try
long enough
& maybe 
if I’ve luck
better than odds
maybe 
you’ve ears
for me
& now
talk like
you’re all I’ve left
but talk 
a little more reckless
than I should
when that’s true,
always relied
too heavy 
on the talisman
& you’re too good
for such
a cheap trick.
Goldenrod curls 
under weight 
of flowers
when they hold enough
color
&
goldenrod etched
into my side
with bloom unfolding
a faint yellow wisp
suspended between ribs
& like twin doors
drooping over chicory
on your calf
billowing waves
along roadside 
drying out
on car dashboard
follow it back
to hillside
where fawn rest
in dreams occasionally
& with signet on hip
I’ll speak with confidence
for once.
Bring me 
linden flowers
in the morning
sing me car radio
while the alcohol
takes time faster
than I care to watch
in small dim lights
on the dashboard.
Drink linden 
in the evening
try to come to terms
with delusions 
over flowers
& it’s not hard to say
that I know why
you pulled that card,
but you’re too good
for such
a cheap
trick.