to be honest i pressure cooked
an artichoke i stole from
your garden. drizzled oil
with garlic squeezed upon
the heart i cut out for you
all u ever learn comes to use
some way some
how
#katyamills
to be honest i pressure cooked
an artichoke i stole from
your garden. drizzled oil
with garlic squeezed upon
the heart i cut out for you
all u ever learn comes to use
some way some
how
#katyamills
She hid in the garden. They knew she was hiding – she always did. Supper went on when the bell tolled five. When the bell tolled six she was gone. A lady with a boy had been seen on the grounds that day whom no one had seen before. She lied to the girl and tricked her away. The boy was used to lend verity to the fable. They did not know she was loved and missed and desperately needed. They only had to have her to mend a broken circle, at the center of which was a terrible secret needed guarding.
I was grown from the earth, in my mother whose very life depended on the earth, the vegetables pushing out of mineral soil.
I faced the sun gave life to the plants, like another plant was i. For when the sun fell, again and again i found my head down in the dark, gaze to the ground, eyelashes a flutter then clasped shut for the night.
Many a fire came over my soul, burning through all of my being. For a time, as a child, they tried to put me out. Still i burned. Incendiary. Until natural i burned myself out.
Only the rain that emboldened the soil to create its next wonder, could put out our fires.
Like a period puts out a sentence.
Like a woman puts out a candle.
Like a man puts out a hunger.
Like poetry and prayer extinguish the thirst.