ROSES, Or, What It Is To Be Loved Well & For Long | a poem by a Faust

ROSES

Or What It Is To Be Loved Well & For Long

a poem by a Faust

the love of my life roses gave all to me

at fourteen minutes to eleven at night

I didn’t know how ...the money... ...How can we?

 He said, you can do what you want, its allight—

 (Like Morticia, perversities, would I happily)

Eyes sparking a mischief playful and good

(do to roses, as my Gomez said usually)

I suddenly knew — how we could.

— They were on sale, I guessed from his smiling

They are beautiful, I said. Beautiful. Like you 

(How much, I still tried not to be thinking...)

Now he pulls them out, in a pretty vase too —

(He is kissing me with his eyes.) They were free.

It was an hour before Trader Joes closed, Valentines 

(I love him so much, how well he knows me)

The night unexpected now perfect besides.