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