BY GRACIE DESANTIS
I’ll glitter gold for you.
I’ll shine like a firefly,
even after twilight alights
and dusk puts you to bed.
I’ll hide my gray days
behind sugar clouds in lemonade.
I’ll dye my hair to look like lilacs.
Your favorite of the blooms we picked.
I’ll wear the cornflower frock
you ate up with dripping butter
the first time you saw me.
I’ll grow you a garden, water it daily.
I’ll pluck burning sunrise tomato fruit
and placid morning glories
who peek dainty from their dewy petticoats
while wasps whisper underneath.
Burgundy in an autumn cotton field,
the stain of my lips and cheeks,
and whatever else you reap of me
when you play upon my flesh.