Cruel Rose

the rose is clever cruel beauty born in thorns
for how else would a tiny weapon be most desired?
even raindrops long to be free from greedy clouds
if only they might bathe velvet soft pink pistils
unscathed eternal longing of sacred hidden hearts
drops fallen to earth to meet with the desert dust
I can hear them crying and calling tears their hell
for they seem to disappear in hot and sunny swells
each one dissolving gone into earth’s muddy lodging