Issue #20 (2011) PDF - myweb - Long Island University

SUNFLOWER SEEDS
through the revolving door into a drugstore‘s heated music
for shampoo and juice and black beans I walk under slanted
mirrors in the aisles a woman with a man‘s voice sways
an aged purse and waits for her name to be called so she can
run to pay and pocket her pill bottles into the cold under
the train that passes spraying water down from steel and
rainforest wood when the drops touch the back of my
hands I want to say to a stranger walking the other direction
that this project of pulling daytime together by speaking
splits itself on smells of toothpaste and whiskey and when
we‘ll be anywhere depends on how she throws down
sunflower seeds and a soda can to cold pavement bent
under sirens inviting pigeons to gather and imitate how
day exits through narrow passages cut on windowpanes
deflecting sunlight‘s last glances but really I‘ve said nothing
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