Madame Alfred Carrière
The layers open wider, lighter, still.
A stillness that is still beyond our eyes
Is slowly rippling outward broader till
The width attains perfection’s pure surprise,
A velvet moment. These increasing curves
Go paler as they spread like angels’ wings
Which have eternity to open. Swerves
Of heavenly feathers show that silence sings
When roses ease their fragrance on the air.
No need for movement in infinity;
Instead we only need the moveless flair
Of petals’ pink to white virginity.
Enclosed in these embracing gentle bends
. Are hidden divinity’s dividends.