A test of poetry

What have I
       in my breath
captured ?
       The stillness
of the moment
       the soundlessness
of a mind subdued
       of words lying
at rest at ease
       almost

In my breath
       a single syllable
: rose
       neither water
nor petal nor thorn
       nor stem

No flowering
       of the flower
simply
       a rose
with its gaunt
       silhouette bound
by the atomic energy
       subdued within

The word will outlive the petals
       that soon enough will
curl crisp and burn
       in the oxidizing air
dust is its destiny
       the fate we all share

but for the moment
       its perfect form captivates
its opiate beauty enthralls
       its fragrance entrances
and it is all
       it needs to be

John Lyons