Now I’m a cactus. It took
practice for my petals to turn
to spines. Sticking out
and sharp, none can touch

without a stabbing *****. I’m a walking
needle stick. I was sweet perfume. My bloom
filled the room. I met many devils. Every man
pulled out a petal. Kept tucked

under his pillow. My head hanging
as a weeping willow. I ran out of brine;
and lost my shine. This is as I grew
the spines. Now I stand untwined. No more

can man cut or pluck me. He’d bleed
if he tried to shuck me. I’m not soft and
sweet. Now, I’m thick and can take
the heat! But I miss the garden. The earth
underneath harden.