IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND AS TO PICK FOR ME A ROSE
October 20, 2009
© Fred Dumpling. Redistribution is prohibited.
If you would be so kind as to pick for me a rose,
then I would dig up all the others
so they'd never outshine yours.
If you would be so kind as to play for me a tune,
then I would shoot down all the songbirds
so I could hear only you.
If you would be so kind as to look my way just once,
then I would pluck your eyes and eat them
so you'd never look away.
If you would be so kind as to lower yourself to
where I've pried open my ribcage
so its toothy welcome gapes;
where I've stretched my heart from where it rests
to let you feel its beat;
where I've sliced it like granatum
spread its halves for you to see
the blood welling in its chambers,
the blood draining from its chambers,
the blood waiting in its chambers,
for you to descend to me;
then I would catch you in its chambers,
shut it so you're safe inside,
I would sew it where I cut it
so you'd no chance to escape,
I would tuck it whence I took it
to resume its sanguine task,
I would close my ribs around it
and relish the long-sought taste, then
I would love you.
I would love you.
I would love you.
I would love.