The Hawk West Desk Window 10:44pm
The First Dying Rose
Taken From Eliza’s Bedroom Bouquet —
petals too limp to dry —
Its Russet Pink Still Enthralling —
Stands Upright In My Bathroom
waste basket
The Tomato-coloured Couch 8:15pm
Hunter has a bunch of red roses
& He’s at work tonight
He’ll see them when He gets home
He’ll see them in a lime-green glass juice pitcher
— for want of a sizeable vase —
here they are in the living room
they’re beautiful — full & unmarked
with His Birthday Card from This Morning
standing open
The Hawk Living Room 7:30pm
Eliza’s Roses this week
will not end up the dried out buds
of every previous batch
This Week They have unfurled —
One even revealing Its Perfect Whirl
within The Orange Nautilus
of My Mind
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:22pm
I have saved every Dozen Roses
of Eliza’s
hung upside down
& dried out
in vases, arranged
two dozen still hanging
from Me, old boyfriends
one treasured young man
staged in My Kitchen
doubled dozen in cut glass
petals laying themselves out
on table tops
falling to the floor
scattered up the stairs
crunching in Her Bed Room
all their colours subtly muted
drying into generic mauve
as they lose their moisture
their scent
taking on the scent of age
of years
Joanna Gilman Hyde 