It's Monday And Even The Hummingbirds Are Quiet Poem by Kayci Lamb

I braided dozedaises with her hair;
the green stem,
the white petals,
and the yellow stamen,
standing stark against her dark strands.

I put her in a meadow of weeping love-grass;
we used to pretend we were lions
in the tall yellow-green leaves
and the thin grass would poke into our sandals
like it now poked into her white lace dress.

I picked her a handful of poppy-mallows to hold;
the magenta coloring of them was her favorite,
the solitary plants reminding me of myself,
and where the flowers once stood tall,
they lay still like she would now.