Young Man Walking

The auburn hair which shadows his jaw
and chin reminds me, as we pass in the park,
of the bearded iris which lushly blooms
in the bed in my side yard, and I feel
his strong appeal, can imagine
concealing him in my room,
letting him out only at night

so we can gather bouquets

Phyllis Wax writes in Milwaukee on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. Poetry has appeared in Naugatuck River Review, Verse Wisconsin, The Widows’ Handbook, Rose Red Review and The New Verse News, and many others. She has read her poems on the radio, in coffee shops, and bars.