Festival Poem by Tom Billsborough

FESTIVAL

Steel fireworks!
How charming its lightening.
How cunning its creator
To mix some grace with courage.

Two shells, a pink burst,
Like two breasts revealed
Insolently hold out their tips.
He knew how to love.
What an epitaph!

A poet in the forest,
Carelessly views his revolver,
Its safety-catch on
And at roses dying of hope.

He dreams of Saadi's roses
And suddenly his head droops,
As a rose repeats the soft curve of a hip.

The air is full of a dreadful liquor
Filtered from half-closed stars.
The shells caress the night's soft perfume
In which you lie.
O, gangrene of roses!