Minimalist Gossip Magazine Cover (49).pdf (13) - Flipbook - Page 16
DI
RT
I roll my tongue
within my mouth to tease open
the memories
seeded between my teeth.
My salty dew drops
clung to your unkempt blades
as I mapped my way
through your allotment.
I trace the stones
and steps it took
to slither down
your tangled trail.
Alone, and in the
morning,
I sit in the dirt of
my thoughts,
through the
decades that
distance us,
and wonder if your
fruits still taste
the same.
My green fingers
prize through the mulch
to find the bones of the
gardener who came before.
I think of how
my breath would wilt
down through your shoulder blades
as you took root in me.
My bees hum around
the hazy summer skies
as the scent of your sweat
slips through my senses.
I pluck myself from
the ground in which you left me,
and wail a wanting
dawn chorus.
SARAH
COOK
11
