china roses on my shirt,
lilacs in my eyes,
i'm all abloom.
cosseted, and hidden from
view, dainty ladies obscured
by petticoats and eyelids,
pulled down low,
blinds in the evening.
i'm shrouded in a garden.
underneath, the roots
grow in a man.
behold, an achilles who
wishes he had the leisure
to sport breasts.
