about a rose


My eye
struck the stone
of your joy
the overlapping petals
of your crying rose –
its perfume, its
innocent accumulation.
My long white perception
dripping like an exact
measure of this curve
a martyr clinging
to the last faith of the flesh
a mellow sun
suspended like
on the twin clouds
of your legs.



Nihilistic Poetry

One thought on “about a rose

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