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Red Roses, Red Roses, Red Roses


ISSUE:  Fall 2019

 

Vendors approaching men with
women, holding out a solo rose, long-stemmed

 

Stein’s remedy to this condition, petals wheeling
down her rue de Fleurus

 

Graffiti in the lull between stations, l’heure
de joie
sprayed with jugular urgency

 

A boy of seven, in a porkpie hat, holding the arm
of his brother’s stroller: his hat’s ribbon

 

The ribbon Elizabeth Taylor (dubbed, muted)
wants for her pencils in Little Women

 

Toile of curtains shooing pigeons from the sill,
the blowing skirts of shepherdesses

 

At Christmas, above roasting chestnuts, hand-
written: hot red wine with cinnamon

 

The O of Piaf’s mouth, strict then relaxed, 
waxed with lipstick on a face otherwise naked

 

Lace of panties and brassieres pinned sensuously
in windows, snow romancing the glass

 

Matching ballet flats of laughing teenagers, arms 
linked, a love new loves will pale against

 

Vin rouge poured at midday, stricken with sun-
light, for a late-blooming valentine

 

Soutine’s butchered subjects, laid upon a proper
table: that blood, with silver and candles 

 

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