58

There is a gap in the blinds
And the light from it makes
Their nylon glow like marrow
As if from within, pale
And in the gap doubled glass
Is a membrane of light
Of a dull transluscence and
Through this skin is visible
A drained, pink rose that
Nods and twitches in the
Wind and the clothing of it
Green and bright and close
At its collar and the great
Body of the rosebush that
Whirls green and black like
The hydra and of which
The rose is like a wound
That thrashes through the air
Spilling gouts of light that
Petal pink and dying on the
Stones and on the raw grass
And it will not clot but only
Burn on in pale effulgence;

Through the glass it is a kind
Of frantic, silent kinema.