Cill Janeway

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

She Rises

She Rose

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

from           Rising.


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