I used to dream of silk and lilys
weaved in my hair like a Native Goddess
and tulips for lips would then define me
to even think of love.
So with plastic roses
and cotton rags I walked the soil
pretending to be who
Grime under toes with a shadow
of make up
you plucked me from fire
and kissed my weed lips.
In your vase I still stay
reaching on forever each day. –