the rose belies death’s presence
its slow decay into transcendence
like words we almost knew
but failed to say somehow
only to be troubled for years
rehashing conversations
as if our world would change
if we could only stay on script
hearing each cue clearly without
improvisation to distract
from the offerings of love
burning upon a broken stone
as if some deity would take pity
on creatures who could create
no better god than themselves
(March 25, 2021)
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