THISTLE IN THE SUN

hard baked   unlikely
	heavy headed purple
sweetness clothed in prickles
standing tall
in a sea of broken asphalt

start out with good posture
all dressed up

honorably planted
at your assigned vigil
	of singe and shovel
squeak through trauma
illness   romance

miserly fingering
the crumbs in your pockets:
a pinch of levity   discipline
hope or triumph

rooted to this mask of flesh
mute   thoughtless
put out

still
against the sky
somehow dreaming