Architecture in the harp
of the heart. I make my hands
into watering cans. A friend
cooks Condolence Lasagna.
A neighbor neighbors
her elder. Each day, the world asks
to be born. Each day, the world
wants to know who will mother
the world. As I write this, garden ants
snatch legs up my arms. Could I love you
better? I whisper, my mouth sloppy
as noodles. Somewhere, Eve
names the first animal. Everywhere else,
earth begins to eject us.
Talk quietly, a planet is trying to die.
Hope isn't something you get by collection
of evidence, my teacher says,
her front two teeth missing.
You choose to reach in, drag hope
from the bag. I listen to rain
land in the cupped ears
of flowers. O Mystery,
O Tunnel of What.
Earth Curriculum by Monica Gomery | Sandalwood Poetry Reed Diffuser
$15.00Price
