A Rose by Another Name
She stepped cautiously down each
broken stair
That once, she could fly up and
past in leaps and bounds
With winged feet and red
flowing hair a fire
Her veins flowed blue from a
heart without a care.
These long years now have
taken full fare
Upon those green eyes that glittered
with light; now veiled rounds
Dulled by a labyrinth that
says everything by revealing nothing,
Her sharp words, whispered in
a graveled throat, smite
(the ruins of countless Camels
and cheap whiskey shots)
“Am I not the shining star -you
came to see on this moonless night;
Have you been here before - when
I was a slightly better sight;
Do you not see that what you
see in me - is your own fright?”
The Inn of the Rising Sun,
with empty rooms, holds prisoner the Argonauts
That came to conquer their
youth; they all checked out but could never leave.
Rose by another name danced
her Mary Jane dreams
And sang all the songs of
self when there was so much celebration
While whirling and
traversing about in her sea colored boat
Twirling her dress of white silk
and a multi-colored ramie coat
As she leaped out the window
of her mind so to float
Falling from heaven’s grace down
upon the streets of desperation
Where the Rose, by another name, cries out in
blues of hesitation.
