Rosa Milagrosa

Soap bubble glycerin wishes. Glinda pink oblivion, a clean slate. The spell of the Miraculous Rose.

I remember her bathroom best. I knew all the faces in the cracked tiles - the little wizard and the three legged dog. The sunlight sneaking past the church to make one four o’ clock square on the shower curtain. The pin up girl and the dusty Madonna. I never looked better than in that mirror, in the flickering of the tungsten vanity. I wanted so much, I wanted everything. It would take a miracle.

Notes: red roses, soap