Rosewater Poem by Sebastian Priotese

You sweated like a rosebush
in summer's pyrexia,
and the only rosebud that could
refused to produce enough resveratrol
to close all the delicate wounds
inflicted by the torrential rains of
my kisses. There is no odor more
enticing than the exuberant girded
nerol of hedonist roses.
When night falls like a palatinate
neckerchief over this sarcophagus-town,
it fills up the opened poppy fields
of my insomnia.
Your plague-kiss sweeps the
Europe of my mouth to this day.