Passive Ideation

I learned something today.
Research – imposed upon myself
in fleeting idealization of
Death comes in passive
forms. Bony fingers
not stretched but drooping
in hopes to catch a soul
or the wafting seed
of well-worn wishes.
Somedays, I might reach
for those hands but pause –
catching light somewhere
behind it’s distant gaze.  

 © Audrey Rosengreen, 2020

The Quiet Days

a calm settles over me,
warm rays on frigid skin
soon i am bathed in amber
kissed by the sun yet
in truth an umber
dark & inviting all within
a closed splendor
there her touch removes
any trace of the battles
before her reign
and i am drenched
in a Love that seeps into
the quiet Earth
deep into the cracks
of all its mending hearts.


© Audrey Rosengreen, 2017-2018 for my love.

Sun Sirens

pink lips           dry cheeks
sitting on a neck strained
out      lessens the double chin
and the

the first time i wanted it
it came          like the rushing waves
wrinkled out on the dim horizon
or the shaking thighs of a
cunt stretched thin by careless
calloused, fingers          either way
my feet were soaked
and my body wanted to sink
like an ugly, stone, fantasy.

the second time          still stings
against my belly         on my wrists
the blood dried along the keyboard
while some boy i loved told me
i fucked like shit
but loved luxuriously.

i look down to stop the sun
singing soft and sweet of the
cool water that once filled my insides.
against the dry heat         its sirens beg me.


Bald Spot

blank stares          cautious
chewing up one side
of my head            wonder
tastes like confusion
confusion reads like

“everyone’s gonna know
you eat pussy”

i laugh like them         stupidity
wrinkles time like it does
their suburban faces
notched out like an
old walking stick. every
cut a new fag add to the

“i have gay friends too’.

some days i want to shave
my head clean.

Copyright © Audrey Rosengreen, 2017-2018