Tuesday, July 28, 2020

An Open Letter To You

The bereaved Gardener
Etching names into stone
Your face like clay, brown and firm

Two 0 One 9
It's so hard to fall upward
Failing to find myself in the storm

and I think it so cruel
dipping the doll's head in wax
a chipped tooth, a weepy eye

A boring into the earth
the carcass of an oak
limbs strewn about a sea of grass

I've been silent about my intentions
Seeding the soil with lies,
lies, lies, lies, lies, lies...

But worry not-
The sunflowers sprouting from
my chest will still turn in open conversation

The headstone dressed in moss will
speak my name in silent tongues
and I'll watch over you

a promise, this time




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