corresponding re-breathing/becoming list (as is customary)

— relearning the scent of roses

refamiliarizing my parchment nose ||

drenched-down bones with rose-ish   gold-ish


— differentiating between how delightfully cool

they are in the american

northeast nostril      how vividly warm

they steam instead   in my

otherside otherworld    my beloved motherland

uncertain regarding which smells more

like home

— how naturally miraculously they assemblé

between my hard-ruled fingertips       adagio

against my ink-drenched thumb    silk

satin        petaled separation       choreography

(all things melancholy)

— the manner in which I

bleed into them     the manner

in which they bleed black

into me       this flame-goth correspondence

of those estranged from       engaged

to our vast cosmic tick-tock-time


{round and round we go}

— their prickly thorns     earth plant

daggers from which I stem

longswords by which I always

see saw myself     steadfast and

on the defensive for cutting

or else self-fortitude    regal and

loyal to my Rajasthani gore


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