I’ll Plant a Metaphor

I’ll Plant a Metaphor

Imagine the reflection, listen to the slight inflection
when the words escape my throat/
that the tears are falling again.

You invited me to you party,
I said I couldn’t come,
I had other obligations,
an appointment with the sun.

But imagine the tone of my voice, listen to my dewy eyes,
when the syllables are choked/
that the sun has not dried them yet.

You insisted that I come along,
I said maybe next time,
I had other confrontations,
an employment as a mime.

But imagine the harsh heat on my feet, listen to my wringing hands,
when my knuckles are swollen/
and the sun has only burned them.

If I asked you to miss the party,
will you stay here this time?
I have scratchy destinations,
an emptying type of mind.

Here I’ll plant a metaphor in the crater
so deep
we will wait all summer to see it come
full bloom.
Imagine the moment, if you will just stay,
when it burst between our consciousness/
when it defines the tears you did not understand.