Flowers in the sky,
blooming Fourth
eruptions which set the neighbor's big, black dog
to tearing out his ten-year lungs
and throwing yellow lightning howls
to sulfur shadow.
What am I looking for?
Lemon chrysanthemums—
a gift from my father,
my first potted plant,
rushed in silence up carpeted steps
by a girl in a purple LEE sweater.
Violets in the back yard
called weeds. Things growing
in the heart. Kill with herbicide
and leave the lawn
brilliant, flashing green.
July is
a million dying things
and memories
hiding under rocks.
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