Chicory II
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.