O’Keeffe’s White Rose, by YU-HSUAN WU

Those moments before she arrived
I had no idea tears would fall

It’s scarcity, she said
she believed in the great collapse
freeing up enough space
to accumulate time

Is it through circling?
my question to her
met without answer
in the three corners of the room
respective mirrors hung
she tells me you need to
go further
hide deeper
all the seams
have to cast shadows

After she leaves
the scent rose
space began to slowly cave
folding into a white rose

How I yearn to tell her
a vanishing point
being out of reach
becomes holy

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