And afterward,
I gather the roses at my feet,
white petals fall, splatter the stage

I lift each stem to my lips
with haste
They cheer,
but I do not fear the bite,
the taste--
earthy, metallic,
sharp.

I smile at their applause, my funny heartbeat,
while slow lines of blood slide
over my lips, drip
down my chin,
juice from a ripe peach,
dropping
onto soft white petals