Swagazine Six

C. Raymond DeCola -- Wildness

Her garden feeds on the moonlight
a crop of gophers with lush green stalks
caterpillar trees forever in bloom
things which snap and howl
behind fences that twist and sink
into a spreading, deepening bog

I am a weed for being so gentle
a cloud of grey flies on her eyelids
an aphid swarm, sucking, dripping
a withered branch sharing its death
and somehow all kindness
tranquility like a stone's

I cannot touch her wildness
all my rows are even
all my leaves are trimmed
a military march through life

to battles only with others

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