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James Anderson
Flower in the Sun
I've watched her and
watched her
when she wasn't looking I
noted the lines on
her hands
the fleck of grey in an eyebrow
how her lip has grown
longer and
the blue of her eye fades
she is like the innocent moss
rose
half wild whose petals
droop in the sun the
color all
condensed
I would pluck her
if she would have me
I would bury
my nose in her
if she would lean my way
Waiting
it seems to me the best
part is the waiting
the coffee
black in front of you
the dirty snow on Lyndale
Avenue suddenly beautiful
momentous you
wouldn't take any other city
in the world now not
Rome certainly not New York
there would never be
this anywhere else
a black haired girl
with braided
cornrows a big nose a wide
smile a big girl who waves
over the posters
on the window
before coming inside
©2009 by James Anderson
James Anderson lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota
and works as a financial analyst. He has published poems in
Yellow Medicine Review, Slow Trains, and elswhere.
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