ROSE THOU ART ECSTATIC
She sinks down under the weight of stolen kisses,
Her wings a petrol spectrum of helplessness,
Flustering in the furious wind of gravity’s angel.
Icon for our times, this ruby crow descending,
Spirit of a tarnished, deconstructed Christ,
All goodness wiped from her lips
In the rub of vinegar rags.
Purblind, a cascade of platitudes, a parachute
Of the emperor’s finest silk: she crash lands,
Junked out on chemistry, crater-eyed and oblivious.