My cousin named her baby Rose
Rose like a flower, like a deep red flower
everyone wants to smell, to touch, to tame.
When I think of Rose, I think of Rising
Like the sun, like flying, like magic
like an angry woman rising out of the home.
Rose has a birthmark under her right eye;
it shines when she smiles.
When people stop to look at the child, they say
“Oh what a sweet baby,
oh but you could have that removed, you know
it’s very easy, you know.”
And they will. They will try
as they have tried to pick every woman’s Rose
they will try to take hers
try to keep her
from knowing her name