Roses

Although the ground may be frosted,
petals show brave - vibrant against cold.

From the window where you sit
the rosy blooms glow
and carry vistas of spring to your mind.

Hedonistic blossom dances on days when the sun
dips toes into the sapphire lustre overhead.

We make coded stems of memories,
crossed and re-crossed, away and back again,
from bud to bloom to fade, but always

the seed will begin again, memory
coded into stems,

pinking with freshness, the brush of faint rose
against cheeks we'll not forget.

Rose Red

No fleet of foot elven lord
with silvery mane and glittering eyes,
his raggedy carpet of fur is mapped
with old scars and infiltrated by dust.

Four paws planted about her
he shakes back his shaggy mantle
and roars defiance to any who would
harm, or try to claim her from him.

And she glimpses, through the pinch eyes
of her terror, the first glimmer of princely jewel
beneath bear hide.

Half bred

She wears her white lace dress
like a novitiate
wears her first habit,

but her eyes proclaim
she was born in a trailer park -

fringe element, ill-starred,
under a half moon.

Borders II

Outlines have lost their distinction.
I used to have firm borders,

solid black lines
made everything clear cut.

But now the colours run
to muddy each other.

I must learn to cope
in a state of fuzz -

squinting
to recognise familiar faces.

Native

Your hands are glass -
smooth cold slippery.

We rub our Buddha bellies
together and roll like ocean swells -
undulations.

Your tiki god is hot and tight
pulses blood beats.

I am Tierra del Fuego -
land of fire.