Untitled

            call it a heat wave,
            moving north from Texas,
            southwest to northeast Kentucky
            or call it a love poem
———–
            the last time we made love
            rushing through my memory
            like water in old seventy creek
            after three days of rain
———-
            or call it a daffodil
            or an indian, colorless flower
            few have ever seen in forest leaves
            but I have seen one
———–
            I dedicate my words
            to that white translucent
            pipelike plant off green three
            at the country club