A Rose’s Name

The Rose sits under a tarp.

Knowing what I have,

knowing what I may never have,

let me name this forever.

She waits for water.

Let me name this security.

This feeling behind open doors.

This person through gaps in your teeth.

She knows her roots reach deep into the earth’s marrow.

Redefine my morals,

Assimilated through savory samples,                           

teaching my tongue to taste

Under different languages learned through eyes,

my own, peering beyond myself

Water hangs from the frayed tarp,

returned by the clouds.

I publish a thesaurus of one word,

I’m out of pages to fill.

I write in ink across the skin’s folds.

The clouds lift their clasped fingers from the sun’s eye.

You reintroduced me to my parent’s child,

All he had to say,

was the Rose’s name.