The props we got to take home

The dried out rose remembers
standing on stage, how the music
curved like it’s stem, how our voices
burst into bloom. Remembers
the spotlights tidepooling, the curtains parting
like the Red Sea, our voices swelling
like the tide, melding together
in the yellow heat. Remembers
how the roses we each held
could have been one and the same,
how we could have been holding each other’s hands.

 

http://dversepoets.com/2014/04/08/poetics-looking-for-treasure/

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13 thoughts on “The props we got to take home

  1. Lovely. My mum still has her bouquet from when she married my step-dad in 1975. I imagine she can still fit her wedding dress, which she made herself – and I remember her making it, silhouetted in the light from the window. Lovely, and wistful.

  2. Dried out roses… I used to keep some. It used to be more common, to press flowers as keepsakes. Always lovely.

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