is turning me off. so i take a walk.
plums fall from trees and protest
& i can’t see the colour green
anymore & just last night yo
just last night god went SPLAT
on my window like a fluttery lick
spittle & told me all love starts
in a garden. what am i supposed to do
with that? another friend goes. gone
enough. almost never here. those facetimes
inside me out all year, wishing I could see you
in the hospital. life breaks who doesn’t cry
eventually. one more grave in the middle
of all that green. prayers tangle in my pockets
like earphone wire. i think about the best way
to maneuver my mask & eat, then give up.
i think about the best way to sneak
into the hospital. what about the body
& everything it can’t keep? i’m so over
the garden. i stood at its knee, dressed in
leaves, begging for fruit. learned the only
predator in paradise is me. no eating or being eaten.
bony limbs, broken lungs & growing more
unknown.
~ from Ploughshares, Vol 48, Number 1, Spring 2022
