Revisionist Poetry – “Into The Rose” – Into The Heart, v.2

The photographer leans into the rose,
into its folded crimson chamber,
a small world of hush and pressure
where petals loosen like a held breath.

No colour needed here.
The air is thick with sweetness,
the bloom a grammar of scent and texture,
soft as a secret at the edge of speech.

Lens in hand, he frames the inward curve,
the hidden geometry of blossom,
and finds in that brief arrest of light
a landscape made of flesh and perfume.

We follow after him
into the bloom’s private weather,
where sight yields to sensation
and the ordinary becomes newly strange.