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.




© 1984/2001