The Hand That Gives The Rose

Allie Nelson

Dances with Tricksters

Courage carry your voice tonight
across the wintry waters of souls,
in a snowbank, a rose is frozen,
hips filled with seeds, dry as dust
iced to stinging clarity, I pierce
my finger on a blackened thorn,
rubies of my heart well up, my
life becomes a red red blossom
of lush petals like a woman’s sex,
fragrant in this frost, I give you
my bloom, the hand that gives the
rose. You keep it under glass, and
when I am sad, it withers, when I
am in love with you, it ripens and
someday, I too will bear pink hips
swollen with future, sleeping seeds.

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Author: Kindra M. Austin

Author of fiction, poetry, and very sweary social commentary. Editor and writer for Sudden Denouement, Whisper and the Roar, and Blood Into Ink. Founder of One for Sorrow. Founding member of Indie Blu(e).

2 thoughts on “The Hand That Gives The Rose”

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