You Pluck a Magnolia, Just for Me











What do you do when I walk through Hogsmeade


as through my yard


all suave all sashay


like a gazelle's grace. Do you look, do you turn around


for one last glance, for one last


wishful taste, then wish I was yours


and go on?





Do you paint me


in your bed? Do you splay me in honey?


Do you smell mangoes from my breath;


apricot and peach?








You pluck a honeysuckle from your garden,


then a magnolia:


this one is for you.


This one is for me.

You put it here


beside the porch

railing, where I can see it too.