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.