a soft closing

the leaves are nearly gone now, but the rose
we planted in early May persists, and i
can see still the scars the ivy left, pulled vine-like
and root-wise from the inside of the back fence.

when i feel lonely just right, they itch, the dark
fingerprints like love-by-night bruises
on the inside shadow of my back thighs,
drunk on espresso and vodka and dreaming.

it is after one, and the sheets have lost their color.
you are painted in moonlight through the open November
window, a crack. the rose is without perfume, but
we have no need to breathe. it is near noon,

and we are tangled in the poems that haven’t come
out in so long. my arms are stronger for it.
the leaves are nearly gone now, naked and dead,
but people gather in the park over the city

to sop up the autumn sun. there is a girl
and a dog and you are distracted, and dreaming
tastes like soap bubbles, easily broken,
worth the bitter for the bloom of the November rose

22 thoughts on “a soft closing

  1. really wonderful feel and visuals you create in this….the sheets lost their color while they are painted in november light, tangled in poems….the use of the rose and thorn imagery really works, the love bruised thighs….great closing line too…

  2. and dreaming
    tastes like soap bubbles… love all the images, taste, scent and emotions you weave in joanna… perspective going from the outside to the inside and back again… the people gathering in the park – the distraction…then emotions again….wonderfully woven

  3. This is truly a beautiful poem. I am in awe of it. The imasgery is crisp and new and the structure just a bit surrealistic enough to continually having the reader need to go back and reread each line in a good way. >KB

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