This Little Cemetery Wants to Grow by Michelle Boisseau

Hurt things continue.
The frost last night singed
the roses, but they’ll
brave it out a bit
longer till winter
closes tight. The buds
were barely nicked. Thumb
their velvet. Hurt turns
toward the sun to be
untouched. Scorch-marks hem
the petals that cling
to five-pointed stars.
This little cemetery
has room for us all.

From: http://www.reduxlitjournal.com/2012/07/41-four-poems-by-michelle-boisseau.html

Date: 2009

By: Michelle Boisseau (1955- )