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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