"Maiden Rain" by Amanda Pape

So sweet, that first rain

like a soft, dumb maiden

in a Waterhouse painting

The expanse of her hips

all rose water and cream

A means to an end

the carving knife

in the butchers hand

Oh yes that first rain

The violence of its

barbed perfume

It’s that of an ancient womb,

a putrid crypt

It stirs the stillness of

a land laid to rest

Undressing what it has

Exhumed

But the insects thrust

with needle teeth

into the green she has unearthed

They rot the petals of the rose

and spilt the fruit from

stem to girth

to make her bleed

beneath her skirt

Oh that first rain