Poetry Series: “the daylily / six”
Each petal is susceptible to
your touch. Fragile as a
shadow. Thin like an ant’s leg.
The pressure from the pad of
a thumb and the center of
your finger. Enough that the
color might leak, stray with
light of the morning that falls
on a lark.
I wonder what violence will
find me today. A deer’s teeth.
A trowel. An errant wind. A
child’s wish to upend
something beautiful.
Innocence is what is left
untouched. And you have
touched me.
