meditations of the beast:
i stare into your fire, red rose,
your heart like lips and your lips like blood,
your blood on fire.
against the ground
it runs
gathering
dry things
to itself--
determine the blaze, rose.
taste the meaning
of the blaze.
taste my meaning,
take it in your petals
and know
until the end of time
how you loved the smear of it,
red rose,
your heart
dry and chapped
as a
thirsty
mouth.