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| Rose in Pose 23 by Rajesh Misra |
the rose water that sits on my desk
next to iris and periwinkle
in a glittered, jelly bulb
jiggled slightly when your husband
fisted the downstairs wood paneling.
a bathroom that should be pretty, a milk-glass tub,
its vertebrae down the middle a cowhide:
the door is yours now.
you’re the house with the perforations in the walls now.
and somewhere between Oklahoma and Japan,
his knees under a desk of recycled air,
half of me pleads, via phone call,
to erase sorrow “or roses are—”
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