An ornamental rose
Smells empty
But familiar in its
Botanical purity;
A sweatless, grassy,
Fresh-air familiarity,
With the hint of aloofness
You pay the florist for.
Roses that smell sweet
Tend to breed wilder,
Less refined,
And call it what you will
But I’m not sure it’s
A compliment.

Really, we should leave
Flowers out of interpersonal
Fantasies, flowers never
Lie, and a rose never
Sacrificed its own beauty
For an ideal. Or maybe it’s a symptom
Of Modernity
That even the scent of roses
Smacks of apathy.


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