Scent of an ending

Summer fading, a For Sale sign on the house... getting ready to leave Little Rhody.  Yet still remains one rose out back, a very bright one.

PETAL-FAN

September.  One late crimson backyard

rose remains.  Knot

not exactly Ruby, not

Desire – but Steadfast Fire (framed

by maroon foundation of the house).

Afloat upon your thorns,

a crozier, or serpent’s

copperhead – magenta compass,

planetary pole.  Away beyond

all foregone Oregon

disputes – those Diomedan

straits of Fenris-Greyhound –

54º32-by-Four!  Ringing

the International Date

Line – must I hesitate?

Princess in a shower, singing.

We clambered to the clear high room

where SF in a bay flamed

orange bloom – became

entangled like a quipu sum (loom,

cedars).  Weight of one iron anchor

filled that octagon

with spray of azure ocean

when Evening Star fired his tangential

thread of light into shade-womb

of piers – that San Franciscan

adamant, where limestone

Rhodi petal-fan (leaf-shaken hum).

    9.3.15