by Eileen Cleary

after Dorianne Laux


Red in the face the first time I faced it. The sun,
hanging since before the first someone, the sun

dipping amber fingers into dewy-cool lawns.
A warming cabinet for grass blankets, the sun,

call it day-star. Luminous over hayfields, loosed
in the furs of chipmunk. Honey: homespun sun,

a taffeta dress stitched with lemon zest, rested
in an ocean blue backdrop. Dear Sun,

Like a frantic greenhouse, I’ve a blind spot when
it comes to what’s too hot, Smothering One,

I love you like a child though you scorch me.
O Variant of Helen, for what’s left of eternity

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Eileen Cleary is the author of Child Ward of the Commonwealth (2019) and 2 a.m. with Keats (Nixes Mate, 2021). In addition, she co-edited the anthology Voices Amidst the Virus, the featured text at the 2021 Michigan State University Filmetry Festival. Cleary founded and is EIC of Lily Poetry Review Books and Lily Poetry Review. Recent work is included in Tree Lines: 21st Century American Poetry, just out through Grayson Books.