The art of Atrophy

In vernal gardens I walk with Sappho    
given seclusive secrets with woven purpose      
our sandaled feet pirouetting      
lava lulling muses      
      
I speak with Kahlo      
ask her about the wounded deer        
how she bore a canvas      
       
behind her corset eyes      
       
while from her spine      
thorns grow      
how bleeding does      
not stop pain      
       
I hold Vincents left ear      
blow dried cadmium      
from sunflowers      
       
tantrum breaking      
waves burst open      
a lone bell tones      
       
in ink blotted dark      
silence is scalped      
three fold artisan      
       
ten fold silence      
draped in white linen      
crumbling escape      
       
of a single      
red      
rose  
 
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