~

i shall assign a name

to my north country girl

~

were a rose to smell so sweet

as black narcissus

~

i will call her rose

my flower, my smiling

happy flower, though

she is not mine, but mine

to hold in my thoughts

~

'tis enough. it has to be

~

frustrated, i want to take

my passion to the house of brede

and live on simple fare

and pray and let it go

and be disloyal to my holy husband

and think only of rose, in peace

to build a life, if only imaginary

in which we would pick out curtains

and flatware and bedding

and all the veggies we would buy

and the walks we would take

holding hands, and the dancing

close and wild, and the love

~