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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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