those of us who have no memory struggle to find it if
we cannot
we invent we search our histories in unlikely places
in fields
along the grassy verges of streams by the sea's edge
in
gardens.
our fingers burrow seeking the unnamed the
unmentionable
fingers plough furrows in moist soil dig scrape plant
tend water
and watch it grow we stand in the garden wearing riding
boots
and jodhpurs as we plan the season's activities shall
we plant
roses or delphiniums poppies or ranunculus peony or
cyclamen
we dream of swathes of colour rising out of the green
we crush the petals of roses inhaling the perfume bite
into
Turkish Delight flavoured with rosewater
some of us bend to
fill our noses with the scent of roses and Gertrude Stein
chants
her endless refrain others recite their cycle of prayers
to the
Virgin as they finger petals and
hips
the women of the Ladies Auxiliary gather for afternoon
tea
gossip and sharing tips on how to make their gardens
grow
their hands are constantly busy knitting making
rosettes
embroidering pillowslips table cloths and napkins
occasionally
they combine forces to make rugs tapestries or quilts
Dorothy
Perkins and
Mrs Van Rossem tell one another stories
there is a story they tell that the rosette window of
a nearby
cathedral was built entirely by a team of women they
whisper
their names among them were seven sisters daughters
of a
seventh daughter they called them the Danae they
say there was
among them a dusky beauty one of an assembly
of beauties one
called Penelope they say designed
the window's florets
we cast a golden rose on Sumerian jewellery and in Crete
we
confuse the archaeologists by restoring the damaged fresco
with
a six-petalled rose of course we know there are five
petals five
fingers but they thought we had created a fiction if
it takes our
fancy we still paint images of ancient roses fictions
of our
inventiveness
we plant and weed and watch as our gardens grow when we
fall in love we give her roses when
she dies wreathes of roses
are laid on her grave
we dance in circles singing ring-a-ring
o' roses a pocketful of
osies at-ishoo at-ishoo we all fall
down we fall upon one
another kissing brushing lips against mouth against cheek
against
nipple against roses there and there and there
the climbing roses fall in cascades from the pergola
passing
beneath the blooms the scent of rose oil is overwhelming
the
roses hang in all their glory roses
as white as roses are red red
roses veined with black roses in hues of orange and pink
yellow
and mauve roses as rare as a blue
moon
we paint still lifes and fashion wallpapers and fabrics
we
photograph each bloom trying to capture the moment
when
dew slides across the surface
of the petal we weave damask
cloth we stitch roses on to footstools and from time
to time we
cut the blooms from the bush
not for us a crown of thorns or a briar of wild
roses to fight
our way through we cultivate the thorns as much as the
flower
petals are strewn across the path into the garden entry
is simple
if you know the ways the trick is in how you place your
fingers
how you cup the bloom how you approach we have a map
we
invent a terrain we find the way through the rose
garden
NOTES
1 rosewater. Rosewater, it is said, was invented by women. By one account the mother-in-law of the Persian princess Nour-Dijan noticed the scented foam which 'had formed on the rivulets of rosewater that ran through the garden.' In another account of the same event it was the princess herself who dipped 'her handkerchief in the water as she was rowed across a small lake'. She then wrung out the scented rosewater into a bottle. See John Fisher. 1986, The Companion to Roses. Harmondsworth: Penguin. pp. 15-16.
2 petals and hips. Fisher writes, 'The early rosaries were made up of rose petals, strung together and, later, rose hips may have been used instead'. See John Fisher. 1986, The Companion to Roses. Harmondsworth: Penguin. p. 165.
3 Dorothy Perkins and Mrs Van Rossem are the names of two rose listed in the Index of Vita Sackville-West. 1987. The Illustrated Garden Book. London: Michael Joseph. p. 190.
4 seven sisters Danae dusky beauty assembly of beauties (Assemblages des Beautés) Penelope are all names of roses listed in Vita Sackville-Westâs index. p. 190.
5 give her roses. Suniti Namjoshi, in her 1980 poem writes, 'I give her the rose with unfurled petals/ she smiles / and crosses her legs. / I give her the shell with the swollen lip. / She laughs. I bite / and nuzzle her breasts. / I tell her, 'Feed me on flowers / with wide open mouths,' / and slowly, / she pulls down my head.' This poem and accompanying photographs of roses and other flowers are contained in Lariane Fonseca. 1992. If Passion Were a Flower . . . Melbourne: Spinifex Press.
6 ring-a-ring o' roses. This children's rhyme is thought to have arise in London during the Great Plague of 1665. The roses are the circular red spots, or buboes, characteristic of the plague. One form of the plague - the Pneumonic plague - is spread by sneezing.
7 roses as white as roses are red. Japanâs most famous lesbian writer, Yoshiko Nobuya, is the author of a story, 'Red Rose, White Rose'. One of a series of stories in her collection Hana Monogatari (Flower Stories). For further information see Marou Izumo and Clare Maree. Love on the Chopping Board. Chapter 9.
8 blue moon. A name of a rose listed in Vita Sackville-Westâs index. p. 190.
9 dew slides across the surface. See Lariane Fonseca. 1992. If Passion Were a Flower . . . Melbourne: Spinifex Press. p. 15.
10 wild roses. Susan
Howe in her Introduction to The Birthmark: Unsettling the Wilderness
in American Literary History, writes of the antinomy of American poets
Anne Hutchinson and Emily Dickinson, lamenting the lack of scholarly attention
paid to these two women. The final phrase of her introduction is, 'wild
roses are veils before trespass'. Wesleyan University Press, 1993. p. 21.
Thanks to Sue Fitchett for drawing my attention to the work of Susan Howe.