False Flower

At the breakfast table we watched
the hummingbird courting
a plastic red flower
seeking the sugar at its heart
glancing over at me you laughed
when it rose to hover at the window
peering in at my turquoise shirt
looking for a way to reach what
must surely hide sweetness:
biological imperative is assurance of that
I’m sending out signals
I’ve no more sweet sap
rising in me than a stone
although the tender melting as I watch you,
tongue darting out to catch
that last
bit of honey,
makes even me think
I might be wrong



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