rose garden ~ 1984/age 14
inhale the filthy air
walk in this decay, this sadness
brown, paper petals
scatter at my feet
dance pitifully oin dry soil
observe the desolation
ssomething: some small, bright sparkle
catches my eye
waves in the dry wind
but then, the others seemed so pure and now
they die before me; look closer
this taunts me differently
tell me: will it leave like the others?
I pull flower from dirt, I kill it first
as I dart from the grave rose garden.
|
|
