Here's one I wrote a while back.
A Rose
Ringing your doorbell, I held the roses
because in the market
the roses held me.
Catching my eye in the flower stall.
You say A Rose Is A Rose.
I say These are Roses.
Wrap them in newspaper
they won't last long.
By the time we sat down to the table,
it was too late to let the wine breath.
Sometimes I leave it corked,
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Comments 3
(that's 7 if you forgot
but i know you didn't)
i try to count the petals on the train
but it's too bumpy.
i lose track.
they're getting brown
standing at the door, waiting
should i knock or ring the doorbell?
this is what i worry over.
7 weeks is shorter than you'd think
in my uncertainty a thorn stabs my sweaty palm
a thin drop of blood escapes
i decide to ring the doorbell
you've found us a wine bottle
and with the wine still inside, too
i don't know anything about wine,
but you tell me,
"this is a good vintage.
chateau haut-marbuzet, 1991.
a reddish brown wine that smells of fruit,
tastes almost of coffee. reminds me of
fruitcake in a way. it's sharp, but also"
you linger
"acidic, perhaps. yes."
i don't know what this means
so i just give you the roses.
i hope that's alright.
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more wine and roses!
no one's ever done it before!
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