ForkWord




Poems by Inchiki



 


Cut Rose



Cut rose lit with shadows
hovering near, a flickering fire
thin smokes, incensed
curl and ripple north into the room's night
past the passive face of my most melancholic lover

This is reflection - now I am alone
with the wholly stupid flies
In a white room, I listen to the rattle
of the clock; a mechanically quiet gloom






the red notebook  1998