Sunday, December 15, 2013

What roses want

She hides in a garden of angry roses-- red
like the one on her mother's breast

bone, thorns tips like a record's needle, scratching
across skin-- roses want to be remembered

in her dreams, they write-- want to stain 
her permanently

red like love and pain, 
like every month's throwings : petals. She hides

in the garden, a wall surrounds her bones, her nest,
she smells roses with honey-hopes,

forgets not to move  
surrounded in silk and thorn

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