English Rose, A Series of Poems
A collection about longing, identity, and the weight of loving
This collection was not written for or about any person
Who
There is a woman
I have never met
who lives in me.
I have loved her
in a hundred different bodies.
I learned to want her
before I knew
what wanting was.
If I ever loved her
or if
I only wanted
to dissolve
into something
that did not carry
my weight
Many Faces
I carried her
for years
without naming her
in the women I noticed,
in the stories I remembered.
I have seen her
many times
in different eyes,
in different lives.
Why I follow,
I do not know.
Root
Somewhere early
something stayed:
a softness
I have never escaped.
Not because I must.
Not because I chose.
Somewhere
beneath the rose.
Ruin
I would give you my soul,
but it’s not whole.
And you
too warm
for something cold.
Love you in ways
that ruins rest.
I’d give you me,
but “me” is war.
You want a home.
I am nowhere to stay.