Roses

a twisted heart of roses falls apart

the petals flake in spirals round the vase

reflected in my iris counterpart

the radii that trail in thoughts retrace

their fallen arcs recursed reverse to climb

returned in course to blooms unplucked by hand

where threaded thorns are wreathed with sage and thyme

unfolding flowers thick with youth expand

a perfect blossom stained in bloody red

then sliced precisely where its life begins

a bed of loam exchanged for glass instead

suspended lifeless color drains and thins

i measure days in wilted leaves that drop

bouquets of clocks awaiting death to stop

• February 2026