alternate encounter in the rose garden

[I have dreamt of a half-rose garden in
Three-sided walls perched with ivy.]
This was the second time I had been there.

Over the discernable thorn and bush
Light broke through the only canopy,
Whose consistency returned me
To all-angles of stained glass from
Barcelona.

Something coined familiar
Gently tugged me to the tree
Until my face was pressed against
A beehive tenant
Tired, too, with it all.

Four stings later I started to feel,
Like venom to the spine when it bites—
Green, like a damned fool, probably
Drowning in the eye-pools of my self.

That is when Time slips around my neck
And I try to suck in what is left,
Only to be saved—in every sense—
By the Familiar. It spun delerium.

* * *

I don’t feel the stings anymore, and assume
They are gone. Translucents run all over
And I think I hear someone else’s breathing.
I think of honey dripping from lips and then

I feel yours; they are everything I had dreamed
While awake.

* * *

It ends with magpies and the customary dove.
My vision is colored so. It melts into the light
Carved by shadows under the bottlebrush—
Softly hushed in the glow behind the curtains.