A Glance in the Afternoon

Sarah D’Stair 

 

a dozen limp roses crackle with dust 

on the bedside table, rotten with 

fallen leaves and dewy residue

caroline should be the name 

of a flower children suck the sweetness from

I remember my own sweet little friend

an imagined embrace in the flesh of my arms 

pushed against the wall of sweet honeysuckle

later that day 

picnic table conversations pierced our wild faces