You can't forget a rose
(The worst day of your life should not define your life, but it does)
I wish people would forget me, like the banana, I left out
a week; Thursday & I find it; beside
the damask rose I rooted; softer than the greenish
one I picked; destined to end up as manure
like the diploma I disdain; the words of Old Ezra
(((ringing through eternity))); calling me filth
from the safety of Rome; telling England
No Sassoon is an Englishman;No Rothschild is English
no Roosevelt is English; and, it is for this filth that you fight
he said.
The English were deaf to Ezra; but not Hamilton’s children
on top of a Hill; the wind blows through my hair
and it snows in June; lake effect, so my fingers
interrupt it; like a river; to know
this is all I desired; stay on your side of the Litani
and I will grow my damask roses; in the Hula Valley
and watch; as my granddaughters dance
and laugh at Alex’s children; getting moldy
like the spotted brown peel; dying on the window sill
where I left it; dying off liking Old Ezra
fruit soft in my mouth; Ezra’s peels
growing my laughing roses; dancing in the sun.
Secrets under the rose; forever kept & more.
by a city of gold; on the Seven Hills that
always see you first.
©Philippe du Col, 2024