Leslie follows the Sun
She makes my head turn
to follow her there
Arcturus rests just above the horizon
tonight, just above Virgo, and in an
unpressed jacket over an ivory blouse,
a cream satin finish that drapes
across a road, side highway named
a frontage between me and the highway,
a small ditch of flowers
and the February slush of dirt
and window castings,
like a flower that remembers the Sun,
my leaves drop in the evening
and my roots absorb the rain
and I dream like a flower...
that we're looking at the same
evening star.
Like a flower that follows the Suns
the grey green eyes of the Sun,
wild sunflower under a barbed fence,
its back to the hearth growing,
like itself, beneath the celestial record.
Leslie follows the Sun,
she turns in space, on one leg
lifts a knee, her hands move about
to retain balance, as the solar engine
moves towards morning, ever morning
in the reach of its flares.
She makes my head turn
to follow her there
Arcturus rests just above the horizon
tonight, just above Virgo, and in an
unpressed jacket over an ivory blouse,
a cream satin finish that drapes
across a road, side highway named
a frontage between me and the highway,
a small ditch of flowers
and the February slush of dirt
and window castings,
like a flower that remembers the Sun,
my leaves drop in the evening
and my roots absorb the rain
and I dream like a flower...
that we're looking at the same
evening star.
Like a flower that follows the Suns
the grey green eyes of the Sun,
wild sunflower under a barbed fence,
its back to the hearth growing,
like itself, beneath the celestial record.
Leslie follows the Sun,
she turns in space, on one leg
lifts a knee, her hands move about
to retain balance, as the solar engine
moves towards morning, ever morning
in the reach of its flares.