Band of Saints

in his garden
he apologized to his sunflowers
promising things would change

by all that’s right he swore
he’d end his war with the earth
which brings them forth
on stalks as thick as the trunks of trees
upon which heads big and bright
(black holes in golden corollas)
turn from north, leaves spread as
p(s)alms of singing hands
in rows of six foot stems, a wall
solid as the barn-side east
(its shadow pall upon baptisia), space,
soil, and each umber face and corolla
together a mute coro de oro
as this band of saints to which he
genuflects and greets

by Jim Culleny, 7/18/11

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