from These Denver Odes
This red rose is perfect today,
Celinda. You, too. Its dewy
petals spread symmetrically
like—anyway, the rose unfolds;
and, at this moment, nothing could be
more like a rose than this rose. You, too.
Twilight soon. The chilly garden
will house a lesser rose, hunching
now, color leaching at its day's end.
You, Celinda, too. Forget-me-nots
last longer, stay neat. Prissy bores.
The Bear and the Goat will gather
over our houses after we
vacate them; and the rose knows no
second summer. You, too. Nor I.
No comments:
Post a Comment