Sunflower Fields

Sunflower Fields

I cut myself in Sunflowers

to show that I still care,

letting out the water

in ripples,

standing in a freshly dug hole.

I have no pity

pushing down the gravestones

in this field

of green and yellow and white,

I only have the hot sun

scaring my back

and the taste of pennies

in my mouth.

I would kill for a swallow

of whiskey or milk,

thinking about the dust

collecting on my tongue.

And I am Rage;

and I am nothing!

Spreading dead seeds

for the next seasons

Sunflower fields.

Reviews

[Misery]

High Art!
If this is not your finest poem, Abigale, it certainly steadies the ladder your finest poem stands upon.
This poem is beautiful and sad and compelling and tragic. I deeply pray it is not a true (future) account.

[Abigale LeCavalier]

Thank you once more Misery. I am finally getting around to submitting my work again. I have had a lot published but had a bit of a mental crack-up the last year or so. I always enjoy your reviews!

[Misery]

Mental clarity...sometimes it's a quickly satiated lover that leaves when we want it to stay; sometimes it's a prolonged house guest that stays when we want it to leave. Who can figure?