I Didn’t Think of You

“who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon?”
—Nietzsche

There ain’t nothin
quite so broken
as a sunflower.

Look at the satin
take in the tick
look at the logic.

Ain’t too phatic
-sunlight in attic-
to say her mind.

But who am I
to call you so
patinated,

inoculated;
I’m the tiny bug
that feeds on your roots.

I’d rather you
sat in the field,
were Queen Anne’s Lace.

Might’s shut up
and made to bloom
by a flower,

might be a scholar
but it ain’t nobody’s
business if I do.

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