Susan Senator

Though it’s been
Over a year since,
I still wish
I hadn’t done it.

Because I think
I feel
I see
A shadow, a ring of dirt, a haze on the soft blue sky; you

It.
Sprouted out of boredom
And ugliness
And nothingness

like a dandelion through old cracked cement, taxi-cab yellow, a slime-green stem

Never mind that it seemed to be some kind of intoxicating, exotic flower

(Or so I thought.)

Like the lily he once bought
me. Overpowering smell of sugar, too tall, sticky, bent, shriveled too
soon.

Nearly killed me.

You can (almost) die of sadness and regret. Unless you lie down
under that sky.

Turns out, I didn’t need to know about the store-bought flowers with their garish,
dyed hues
And their crinkly paper.
$9.99 a bunch.

I had a sunny meadow
I have a sunny meadow,
under a hazy blue sky