Rose Sonnets

what heat burns in the
heart of a rose?
a secret fire, a cheek
of pollen brushed
across a purple sky,
a blush on the lips
of a maiden. petals
pulsed around a core.
scent squeezed
onto my fingertips
like drops of blood, rare
and sweet, a taste
of iron and the wingtips
of butterflies.

I want to believe
the picnic blanket
will stay uncrumpled,
the wine will not spill,
and the grass will not be trampled
the summer days
will unroll and swell
like ripening passionfruit.
looks toss skyward
to clouds that watch
and hold their breath
bruising
by intent, waiting
declaration.

black seeds of scented
honey warmed on the tongue
by kidnapped sun, roiled
and rolled and finally
spun like droplets,
a fountain, the earth.
the wind kicks
words off the petals, blows
poems off the velvet desk
scatters blooms among the stalks.
people come
to pick them up, others walk by
just smiling.
all think of a rose.