The Rose Garden

about the
closed rose garden
the dogs in people’s
bodies—owners of these
premises, appear, stand guard;
he thought this grey-green acreage
existed only in his dreams and,
now on this ascension Sunday
he will not wake to changing
stars—to air disasters—
this night his walk will
be among the roses,
closely, carefully—
about the thorns,
about the red
rose garden,
eyes open,
touching
secrets,
softly,
air—
his.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can also donate some of your hard-earned dollars down below—that’s money to me, for free!

 

Gabriel Muoio

$1.00

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s