Can Love Die
janine canan
Can love die -- like an azalea
that once was covered with cherry-red lips
and now is nothing but bald pricks,
a tangled ball of in-grown roots.
Doesn't something cling still -- a fine knot
of denial, a last ember of betrayal,
some inaudibly gnawing guilt
or anguished gaping loss.
Or does even grief die -- so that painlessly
I can pull you out of my rocky soil
and watch you blow away like a weed
that dashes after the escaping horizon.
At memory's cool reunion, your soft skin
wears the untouchable shroud.
Yet the azaleas keep blooming --
shocking magenta, cremating crimson, immortal gold....