Manila Street - Amy Speace

The roses of the Philippines stretch across Manila Street, bursting with the

vanity of summer rain: cardinal and cinnamon, damask, wine, vermillion — the

patchwork mask of Harlequin in a parade*

He woo’s the lady with his dance, like your thorny eloquence — I wish for

things I cannot ask of you to say

I count the days from then to this: when you woke me with a kiss — to the day

when I won’t miss you like I do today

How will I know when to let it go, let it fall as soft as snow, maybe then

How will I know when I’m over you, when tears give way to something new,

maybe then I’ll love again

I dig the earth upon my knees, geraniums and peonies, lavender and rosemary to

fill the hours

Planting roots to catch and start and distract my hurting heart,

surrendering to the art of blooming flowers

How will I know when to let it go, let it fall as soft as snow, maybe then,

maybe then.

Maybe I’ll know when I’m over you, when tears give way to

something new, and maybe then I’ll love again

And so the petals bloom and fade, curling up in morning shade, I still wish for

words I’ll never hear you say

I count the days from then to this — when you woke me with a kiss — to the day

when I won’t miss you like I do today