Poem by Susana Roberts
Signature of Flowers
I want to know who writes your name.
Is it burning deep inside
the flames of your acid teardrops?
Is it in your morning black coffee?
Is it in the daily morning news?
Is it in the internal movement of the
smallest cog on your timepiece?
Or laying on the dry, dusty fruits of a wooden picture
displayed on your kitchen wall?
Or maybe it is in the eyes of a child that dreams.
Who writes your name today?
Is it in the many rippling shades of a fast-flowing river,
or in some freshly toasted bread?
Is it in the field of brilliant rosemary growing around the house,
amidst the blooming azaleas,
near broken chains of suicidal oranges.
I need to know who writes your name.
Is it disguised inside an illusion of ink covering a body of leaves;
encrypted on a computer?
Tell me, who writes your name?
Does your name come from universal fruits and honey?
Where bees gather joy of the light shade neath the shadow.,
and penetrate southern traces of lived experiences.
Copyright-©-Susana Roberts-January 3rd-2015