Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Poem: In the Garden

In the garden
where we once held
our midnight trysts
under the glow of moonlight
and the perfume of roses
in the shelter
of the gazebo
now stands
surrounded by
poppies
carnations
and lotus flowers
a row of picket fences
painted white
like the perfect teeth
of a polite smile
(but their tips
are filed to a point)

of rosebuds there are none
only brambles.

2 comments:

  1. scareee, this.
    like a slab of
    blood-purple meat
    quivering
    on a stainless steel table.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Nice imagery, DJB. But what's the metaphor? Not a poem if no metaphor.

    ;-)

    ReplyDelete