The lady makes a bouquet or roses;
pollen clinging to the sleeve of her white dress.
She carries the ebony vase to a small
table, a blue rosary encircles her hand.
Gallica roses and damask, white for
purity and new love, red for passion,
Yellow for friendship, purple for enchantment,
spun out of the colors of her amethyst ring,
inherited episcopacy, long gone, long dead,
the relic of past dreams, past dramas.
Her gold-dot hennin hides changing
hair, gold and silver mingling into
unfinished memories of forgiveness.
