I blog for you
roses
but I am no flower
child
I write you
e-letters
but I am not
(t)here
I just wish to share
something--
something that won't
wound
I have gathered all
thorns
into my cupped palms
for gentling psalms for
you
Hands fist into
silence
She bleeds without
pain
You see her blood
through roses
lushly-petalled
generous perfume
