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.