Spindled Roses

by | Aug 22, 2011 | Blog, My Poems


I was awake
on the morning

the fog mustered up
the courage

to contact you.

It was like moss
growing across the door

and tapping
tree limbs



You stopped moving
two weeks ago.

There are things you should have said, she said—

gowns parted against
humming machines,

hazardous materials.

What is the answer to the universe,
I couldn’t tell you.

Blinded ravens
spell the sequence

of your memory.

You were all I had left.

(Broken flowers.)