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.


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 –

54ยบ32-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).


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