Crisis of affection—a tulip, the flower—artificial yellow
composite on weekend. I saw the crush—early stream—
then never without you, on remix, on repeat, this heart.
Midday’s haze worsening into pale linked cubes.
A soft texture resisting folds. Like weekend or song
yellow repeating its shape. No vice in voice alone. Yellow’s
cold clock accenting nude lives—layers heaping
over at lapse—spinning to thread then yawning dot.
Flower—a sunflower—the yellow memory.
Long bright afternoons in afterimage.