tiny rose slept all summer as if dead
with stubborn dull twigs and stillborn thorns
but autumn cloaked her stiffness in red going green
on winter solstice she birthed a single white furl
somehow she refuses wilting and welcomes the new
year’s somnolent sub-freezing days and cracking nights
she embraces the icy sun’s slowly stretching yellow lights
what’s the use of hiding
ubiquitous things beneath
wealthy sodden privilege
torn grey selves in a ragtag
coat of colors [o joseph]
[what we despise we sell]
[our jealousies sated]
[enslaving only to find]
[ourselves enslaved guilty]
[hide it all away]
[as if by denial we are innocent]
toss all things on a cracked
creaking pine table
discover what lies
beneath that’s the bind
and rub isn’t it [o mother mary]
[grant us mercy]
[behind locked white]
[doors dusky roses writhe]
[petals falling sweet crows]
[forgive our deceit]
[our grievous faults]
plundering hard red burns
softing blue intent away
what no longer asks
grieving questions
no longer cares [o jason]
[give us a myth]
[a winged ram’s golden fleece]
[to cover our nakedness]
[give power and authority]
[ignore our sins]
[our murderous greed]
children and children's children
of fallen sweet crows
churning wings singed strong
panoramic calling
calling justice home
Sometimes the long line knocks on my barred door,
shoving aside the dusty boot holding down the threshold,
while the other old boot scuffles acrid stale billows
that roll between wobbly, oddbodkin knees with demands
thought better of and carefully set aside.
(Thanks to Bev Lyon for the great revision ideas.)
