The Anamnesis of Kisses

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The promulgation of
The twelve holy roses
Which stand with their thorny crowned stems
on the pulpit of my
Coffee table
is delivered
With the solemn genuflection
Of the quiet heart
Which only speaks of love.

It is where I find myself
Congregating
During this time of the
Plague
Which recalls the black times
Of the Middle Ages
When people coped with terror
And lashed out at neighbors
And sought blame
And retribution
And slew innocent heretics
While the rich self-flagellated
And others
turned inward
fretting about the condition of their soul.

But for me,
At least for now,
I will turn towards the roses
With lust and longing
Because that is where
The anamnesis of
Of kisses
Is enshrined
Along with the repository of
Promises and vows
Which like any oath
I intend to keep.

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