The Last Rose

Ichor running through her veins All blood is pushed aside Her eyelids shut, her heart on ice My fate she would decide Wilted romance, rotting vines Garden left in thorns A lonely rose from last years bloom Bent over in her scorn New seeds unplanted, sterile lay Her cold impounds the soil To blow within a fallow lust Abandoned there to toil With one more look, beyond all hope My vision love impaired Her verdict guilty, poison laid —in blindness I despair (Longwood Gardens: February, 2022)