i stopped to SEE the rose

Photo by Andréas BRUN on Unsplash

i stopped to SEE the rose,
for the last i sniffed i coughed
when a mem’ry ugly crossed my nose
and set me reeling south;

but ’twas more than redolence
that contributed to stridor…
as the rose — in gracious subtlety —
it lended me a spider.