Before my wife left on a retreat
I took a picture of her
in a park with buttercups.
They were wild then,
bright as sulphur on the North Shore docks.
They seemed to eat her up.
In the photograph she is sitting
in a chrome green field
and the buttercups crowd on her shoulders.
Perhaps it is that way with colour:
if you put two together
sometimes they eat each other.
I have seen it before.
It was a picture of the Earth.
The stars were eating it.
