marigold — Summary

The speaker watches a marigold in full sun, its red serrated face turned brightly upward. That image is full of openness and color. But the poem quickly turns inward: “yet like me” signals a comparison. The flower, despite its sunny appearance, hunches its small petals in the dark, drawing into itself. The speaker recognizes that same habit in herself—the way a person can seem bright and outward-facing in daylight, then contract, hide, or protect themselves when things get dark. The mood is quiet, intimate, and a little lonely. There is no complaint or solution, just a small moment of recognition between the speaker and the flower. The unusual verb “haunch” gives that closing-in a bodily, protective feel, as if both flower and speaker are bracing against vulnerability. The poem leaves you with a sense of kinship in that shared retreat.