Minnie Gehrig Poems

If i were your rose,
id be crimson red
thick and rich like cuagulating blood red,
...

i am a deep cut,
bleeding into the pages,
they clot,
they grow wings and i soar,
...

all these words,
dropped heavy
like rainfall
against the softly pliant skin of roses,
...

I imagine white picket fences,
flower gardens full of wild faces
walking barefoot on the green green grass,
to touch your lips with mine
...

When i fell into my darknesses,
you were there to catch me,
n send me home,
where the sun shines upon me,
...

i sleep in your bed,
where other women have undoubtedly,
twisted beneath your hips,
...

my poetry is dying,
my muses are crucifix ed,
blood dripping on the blank pages,
n disarranged splotches,
...

winding serpentine like
down the Highway
4 am,
watching the trepidatious peak
...

the past keeps bleeding itself,
blurring all the edges,
paint myself into new days,
where dawn n dusk dance
...

in the ways of the willow,
i bend i twist,
i study my trunk,
i reach my branches,
...