Moonlight in Roses

Night-cloaked cloister, star peppered
hushed but for the invisible patter
of insect feet, beckons midnight lovers.

Stumbling in sticky darkness
we explode through familiar portals
to draw thin breath beneath
a full, lemon cheesecake moon.
Gatecrashed into forbidden glory
noses twitching, homing in to scent
we are bent on stealing nocturnal revelry
and prickle suspicious at strains
of summer's blue notes, rhythmic syncopation
against our hot, half hidden impulses

Inhaling steaming perfume of
sulking, half-cooked roses
it compels clandestine carousal.
Till robbed of rhyme or reason
from the flagrance of florals
from the seriousness of moonlight
we are dulcet drowned, vanquished
by the deadly cold of lunatic, burgeoned blossoms.

I shiver in your furnaced gaze upon me
then melt, frangible puddle in the burn of your arms.
As rosebuds fall, frail ghosts about us
in sudden summer's breeze
I prayerful plead there might never be
piercing thorns betwixt us
only the requital of murderous
red, red roses.