in my garden

i’ve buried all the pieces no one ever gets to see

fickle fallow and everyday shallow
not enough coin inside oversized purse
cold confidence and chartreuse envy

and in between daisies
tiny fingers
of longing

in my garden i am always
and therefore

sun beat and wind burn
the torture of
bent back
long squat
in the soil of silence

are my charm
and for them
i leave glamour

gifts of
gilded bone and
beaded sinew

and we dance to the rhythm
of hidden heart broken start ritual
refusing to accept the blue bowl bright sky storm

raging just beneath the lost forget me not sea of invitation




A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month: Day 9
I’m participating in NaPoWriMo, and the Writer’s Digest Poem a Day Challenge
Today’s theme is a combo of NaPoWriMo’s lines that scare you and PAD’s: hide-out.


One Response to “in my garden”

  • Gerry Miller Says:

    In between daisies, tiny fingers of longing.
    This image SO beautiful it breaks my heart and I’m waiting impatiently for your book. Want to share about an article I read online at Daily Om about Poetry as Meditation. Yes! Writing poetry is a meditative experience and reading your poems is always beautiful meditation experience for this Granny Gerry!

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