Solidago: to make whole

Goldenrod, the deep yellow, the color of the center of the sun,
the clean burn—I brought you some when
you were crying, because your love had left you.

She left before the sun had set, before the sky
was orange. The trees shone green, the leaves were tipped with
goldenrod, the deep yellow, the color of the center of the sun.

It was dark when I climbed the steps to your front porch,
where you were sitting with the lights turned out, while
you were crying because your love had left you.

We watched the sun rise above the houses across the street;
I sat beside you. Between us was the
goldenrod, the deep yellow. The color of the center of the sun

stained the horizon. Days later I stood beside you
as she was lowered into the ground, her coffin covered in
goldenrod, the deep yellow, the color of the center of the sun,
as you were crying, because your love had left you.