LIKE A SWEET WILD ROSE
The smell of a sweet wild rose and I can
trace through the crowd into you
your dead-body-been-soaked-in-salty-water-for-ten-years kind of
white, moist, preserved.
youth, freckles, veins.
Fresh! The late-adolescent freshness.
Couldn’t you have smelled me? I was sniffing up and down your neck and spine like an overheated hog.
Couldn’t you have felt me, not even my breath? The tip of my nose a hair away from touching the fuzz on your skin.
You! You little devil!
You! And your mermaid red curly hair!
you sweeter than a sweet wild rose
sweeter than its nectarean sweat
how can I preserve you so you stay how you are?
not a second younger, not a second older.
not even performing one more breath.
But do breathe, my dear,
and do smell the smell of yourself!
blossoming like a, embracing the whole world like a!