I remember other times I have passed by
less quickly, and that if I want to see
the bunched up flower, the frayed petal edges,
I need to stop, bend at the knee,
and not remember what it looks like.
And when I see nothing except for the green
shade and the ripe grass and the yellow flower
on its fragile stem, I see there’s fleabane close by,
with light ray petals, so pretty, and a stem
that bends over with the near weightlessness of its
pink flowers and clear green leaves as if, on this
spring day, it is this kind of attention that tires it.
Gigi Marks lives in Ithaca, New York. Her poetry has appeared in many publications, including American Poets Against the War, The Atlanta Review, Best American Poetry, Green Mountains Review, Lilith, North American Poetry Review, Northwest Review, Poetry, Poetry Daily, Prairie Schooner, Southern Poetry Review, and others. Her first chapbook, What We Need, was published by Shortline Editions. A second chapbook of her poems, Shelter, was published by Autumn House Press in 2011. Most recently, her collection of poems Close By was published by Silverfish Review Press in Spring 2012. Close By was nominated for the National Books Critic Circle Award in Poetry in 2012. Recent poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize in Poetry for 2013.