A rosebush paled
at the foot of the grotto.
Swayed without any breeze.
Gone: the season, time & speech.
Petals curled
& waved me in.
My life shrank
from my body,
I moved in closer.
From the alcove:
the heart’s wax,
a woman as moon,
as holy cloud.
Her foreign eyes anointed me,
my blood knotted like hair.
She had a strong, still beauty,
it made me want to weep.
Her nature was unlike mine –
she had small hands of heaven,
and eyes of silk,
clasping rosary beads.
Two golden roses bloomed –
timeless, at her feet.
Her light was so big.
It—rushed—into—me.
