I've seen only one yellow spot
and that's in the song
that sometimes echoes in my memories.
In my song it stands for taking
the slap in the face but giving
a kiss before leaving.
For Scott Wieland it represents
a nectarine, a flower,
bath water that his pedestaled nymph
has bathed in
and he wants to drink it.
Idiot.
Or am I,
spinning the song around us,
threading us into the seams of it,
and exhalting what we shared?
In love the yellow spot is weak.
I wish I was altogether blind
to the cherry-wood box
that I keep your 5"x 8" in,
and other framed moments
stolen from my time's cemetery.
They're dead.
I keep exhuming them.
I will remember
even if I bury the whole box,
even if I bury the whole box,
that yellow spotted flower will still
grow.