Dark rush
round the roses,
flat sea
bound and curled.
A tint and blush
and flush-red
world,
night’s rude
quick close.
Caught in
cathedral’s crossfire
light,
the high bright
bickering of
churchmice
ends,
the silence
of divinity
a rodent’s
little shroud.
The garden’s
poisoned quilt
is spread beneath
dark eyes and
lips, famished
tutorial roses
darkening to a
murderous blush.