Rose Poem by Oludipe Samuel

Beyond mangled
Shadows of broken veils, it strove
A bolt of warmth far off the furrowed all;
Vapours, pore-breaching, of the first
Swollen beam.

The morning’s tender glance

Droops above the yolk serene, its
Writhing brush of bloodshot glare
And the heavy thrust of a broadening void
In weak recession of that glance.

O how cold it drew – stifled echoes

In twine rustles; birdlimes glaze on
Dim wings…it drew
A vacant reed and brittle spine