A Poem by Charley Barnes

& I take their picture, tap out: Saw this and thought of you. Holland is the largest producer of tulips, still, and you are not from here. I wonder at the ways Jacob Marrel might take your painting portrait photograph from one hundred and three angles to show your versality during arousal, & I am sure that I see you in the still life on the far end of the room: pink open yellow coated on the insides depending on the season. Another hotel guest sees me watching, says, ‘Did you know they’re edible?’ & even though this is new information it is somehow, too, something I have known since the first time you bought me roses. The hotel tulips have perfect symmetry though I know from experience you don’t and it would be strange if you did. There is a man who works here wearing a half suit and loose tie who tops up your vase with water & I want to stop his hand and explain that is not how she likes to be touched.