thick petals, once staked to flowers
Fill a ceiling gone to roses then still—
Vase on the window ledge, half murky
half done, and bugs are hovering
specks in shifting light: that room stayed in
Every season its walls, mold
The radiator hissing steam around
a river that carries you back—
Wet gutters stream mirrors
the dawn a red sunrise: the
One child, dropped from your body one leaf.
Originally published in Blue Edge chapbook from Cervena Barva Press.