Archive for June, 2014

June 5, 2014

Rose petals

like flat sheets

weak, round, reaching

like open hands

with fingers          spreading and empty.

Inverted like mushrooms

splaying gills that sigh spores.


Red edges          unravelling like bandages

stained black with time

the dry cracks curling.

The first layer like pastry

a dark blood dust that stuck in her skin.


The inside like a bud and still soft,

she tore the bright leaves

that smelled less like perfume than grass.

Inside that, like damp talc,

a rich yellow she brushed on her hand

scattered          marked the carpet

stained the petal scraps.


© Lydia Allison 2014