White Roses
You looked once more at those
White Roses
that hundred bunched into a shell
White Roses

It was a small thing
I’d asked you then
so long ago–our first morning
“just speak to me”
and you always did

Even as I watched you
nightly good night him
as my day did its time

(I wished I was dead
and never told you–
you knew though
and so we danced)

And then you counted each
a hundred times
with memory ravaged then by memory
and for what?

White Roses
by the hundred bunch and then–
White Roses
and then that was that
White Roses

(I valued us–
and then you spoke in small ways
about how we knew the future
as I held you)


Red Roses
you laid them for me
Red Roses
as you fell into my bed
Red Roses
and I knew we were in love
Red Roses
despite your pain from loss
Red Roses

I helped you grieve

Let me show you,
small bunches first, of

No gorgeous bouquet
of extravagantly hued introductions

with a sweetness you have never scented

White, now in small measures
White, now with truth



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