i poured a poesy
from a jar in a field
full of two-petaled
flowers that were
not mechanical
boxes filled with
churning lubricant,
but she
had on a dead
man's shirt.
the sun was just
coming up, and
our shoes were
covered with dew.
I remember purple
plaid blankets
and her beaming.
Professor Plum
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-she-who-weakened/
