A Marionette Called Rosette

carried away on the last rays of autumn sun in a moon-shaped pool carried away like cosmic driftwood she's having a pocket honeymoon because there's a coat of scarlet velvet somewhere in her Estonian hair having a picnic in a coffin that's her own gallery of famine please let's visit our favourite sunken ships born within the flood in a launderette born at the edge of a melting ledge she's a sick sycamore down by the deli shop she's a dark tunnel in a raindrop she's a blitz tempest in a kindergarten she's a jailed bouquet her flowers of tartan she's a coquette a Russian roulette my marionette called Rosette