One of the roses

When she leans over
she appears as one of the roses
with white skin, speckled of moles
bright spikes of rusty hair
eyes hot in their embers
and a mouth that opens to the sea:
She is nature—
mother woman child
water that flows hidden
and runs from garden
to kitchen table
where grapes are washed
and wine appears
She prepares the daily meal
enjoys it twice!
drawing gazes into her mirror
to see the truth there
and deeper
where the coals burn
everything that is learned
by aching failure
where the door cracks open
a little
to let in the air:
She turns and turns
with her wild hair

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