Roses are hidden in buckets
a child could put one in her hair, a child could
create sandcastles up to their knees with
such. Yet these

creatures do not use his or her thorns
to intercept the road from garden to factory lines.
Funny to think one's skin shall

became tainted by something
that sleeps in peace right outside. Then, I think
about packing man into a bottle of mist
and would like to harvest my love's breath.