the first and the last petal

rippled in defeat
solitary goes away

desired in turmoil once
and now overwhelmed in the flat calm

first covered with glory
and then slandered

crafty lying and tightened
though barely sketched
it was the first
not the usual one, no,
different
different from any other
 of a kind,
 one

it was the first
and now is the last
and meanwhile who sang her chant to the world
between the first and the last line sharp as a knife blade?
 no one knows, no one cares anymore
so without tears the last petal goes
and goes,
  never to return

Marco Bo