Rosalinda with the flowery hands,
I need you to dip your fingers in this
bath that I have drawn, as many demands
have put a strain on my body’s business:
I was uninvolved when I met you, stuck
inside of myself and my fears and my
inadequacies. Now I’m wealthy – luck
has broken its bank upon me, through me:
I need your floral embrace to revive
my pulse. Your petals will restore me to
truer days when I was unemployed five
days a week. Now my deeds are just see-through:
My body is broken, my spirit dead;
Rosalinda, cut this stem from my head.