I was running today
And picked a sunflower
From its stem
As I breezed past
I imagined slipping it
Into your wrinkled, weathered hand
One last gift
And a soft, sad smile
But then my vision goes dark
And I see that same hand
Slicing through the air
The taste of blood in my mouth
Mottling the skin around my eye
I see that same hand
Iron grip around a wooden handle
Slamming my body
Again
And again
That wrinkled, old hand
Hurting me
Time after time
The sound of the slap
Radiating around the house
The screams from my sisters
Caused by that hand
And my fist closes around the perfect
Yellow petals
I run as fast as I can
My fist closed as tight as possible
I drop the sunflower in the mud
And brush the yellow
Off on my shorts
I walk away
Leaving it crumpled
And *****
Sunflower