The Rose Tree

by Pavel Chichikov

Slim as a girl, an angel person,

The rose tree in a friars’ garden,

No taller than a girl is tall,

The outer cities ended, all,

Shadow-casting things knocked down,

Wire grass and yellow ground,

But in this place the crooked hate

The love-red-blossomed tree is straight;

Within the small and precious gard

The rooted dances heavenward

(See Pavel's new book, Mysteries and Stations, here.)

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