Take All My Wilting Roses, Lord

By Flourish Joshua

Sneak the amens out of the cathedral, I want
to make love to them for my supplications. 

The goal, as it should be, is to outwit the wilt,
smear joy on the walls of my room, necklace

my laughter. To spare you the metaphors,
I desire sufficiency. The golden milk from

sunlight’s breast, satiating my insides.
But we get busy hoping joy will come 

in the morning, forgetting the morning
may never come. I lift the miniskirt of hope, 

another failed attempt at tangibility. Take
your life, the voices say, but I do not take 

what isn’t mine. I suggest romance to my friend,
she says I am not enough. What does it mean 

to not be enough? To wear fortune inside
-out? Less spade for gold-digging? To sing 

backward? To taste yourself & die of
indigestion? Saltless, reeking of stale 

salvation? I enter the market square,
fling my body to the woman selling peace. 

He who wants peace must be ready for war,
she says. But after the war, peace is a farce. 

Adonai, my wound is prose, bless me with
poetry. Take all my wilting roses. I am done 

dancing to the music of my gods. Take all
my wilting roses, Lord. Undress my Jericho. 

Unwind my wane. For every hindrance,
bless me with a mallet. Kill me 

with life. Let the holes in your crucified
palms hide me from the axe’s tongue.

BIO:
Flourish Joshua is a Nigerian poet, background vocalist, copyeditor, thespian, and spoken word artist. His poems have appeared in Palette Poetry, Poetry Sango-Ota, The Shore Poetry, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, miniskirt magazine, and elsewhere. He is a member of the Frontiers Collective.