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
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