Rose Jam

With knees foam-sheathed

she pins the brown soil

unwilling body of earth

until sundown it’s hers

the grandmother, mother, widow

whisperer to the world

beneath her, families

of spiders scurry and ants

dance for the priestess

snipping carmine planets

from their sky that hit the surface exploded

petals crushed between

her sandalled toes

rose jam boiling in the air

she continues her ruthless work

for thankless generations


36 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Hungry Him

He disturbs the bed super-imposing crumpled sheets like a mistake left on a page, proof of impatience with a hunger for lead or an artist’s tongue to draw a line, on hips virile brackets to exist with

A Mother Introduces the Storm

Rain comes eliminating the sky with glass shards falling down to make heads bow melting my clothes into cold outlines limits of my skin exposed forcing me to exist and witness entranced like the first

Bedside Surgeon (a Grindr poem)

Yours is a precision arm a reach which could make spines forget legs or left forget right tongue forget tongue your screen unlocked head bowed in prayer private and away your face a mask of orange neo

© Brad Cohen 2020

​