THE PERFECTION OF LIFE IN FORM

The thorns may not be visible

but they are present
tucked underneath 
the purity
of the white petal bouquet.

She longs for you
to smell her,
take that magic medicine,
her scent,
all the way in
and deep
into your soul’s longing.

Just when you’ve
surrendered,
found heaven,
a pointy spine stabs
the smooth flesh of your finger,

were you holding her a little too tightly?

Her gift,
a dot of blood,
to remind you,

life is light,
life is dark,
life is free.