Cornflower Blue
Jennifer Lobaugh
My love came to me on the banks of the river
He came with the lore on his side
He tendered me fistfuls of violet asters
And cornflowers blue as a bride
He laid me to sleep with the freshwater virgins
To steep in the swell and moonshine
Now I walk the flinty strand damp as a christening
With August and coal in my eyes
And I can’t remember the taste of his fury
When he stooped to kiss me goodbye
But one of these Sundays, I’ll come from the mountain
And suck the bald lake’s fingers dry
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