by Jeff Oaks
I ate the coffee cake because I wanted
to eat a sunflower. I drank the coffee
because I wanted to be a sunflower.
I chose my loose clothes, I chose these dark shoes
so I might keep my sunflower secret
from the small birds who steal things for a living.
I choose my word carefully, tilt my face
into the solar locutions, make of myself
a field of rustling so rich a man might
never tire of saying sunflower, sunflower.