TOWARD THE EDGES

Beach Roses ~Mark Doty

“What are they, the white roses,

when they are almost nothing,

only a little denser than the fog,

shadow-centered petals blurring,

toward the edges, into everything?

This morning one broken cloud

built an archipelago,

fourteen gleaming islands

hurrying across a blank plain of sheen:

nothing, or next to nothing

--pure scattering, light on light,

fleeting.

And now, a heap of roses

beside the sea, white rugosa

beside the foaming hem of shore;

brave,

waxen candles…

And we talk

as if death were a line to be crossed.

Look at them, the white roses.

Tell me where they end.”

ART: "White Roses" 10-02-23