Roses Ask Pardon for Their Wounds I dreamed you were Asia and rubies were mined from your mouth like a kiss exploding blooms of silk interference with ev’ry fluid step dropped from my wish. * It seemed your persuasion might melt from my mind the canvas stitch of guilt Redcoating my sight if men wading in its fragrant truth could erupt and commit. * Every soldier split; conquests deserted quotations we’d outlived, leaving my face a quilt unfelt—blank as milk laundering love of its enigma. * Roses asking pardon trail balm treasuries over my eyelids’ walls and I know your garden isn’t one at all: a penitentiary where thorns crawl. Share:ShareClick to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)Click to share on Skype (Opens in new window)Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) Related December 19, 2014 Categories: Poetry