i saw a man
who held a garden
in his hand

i watched his
skin break open
like a plot of land

fractured root
sprouting into stem
a bead of blood &
the blossom began

tiny tomato
then two
spiderwebbed
in twine
a pepper grew

the sun shone
(too) brightly
that summer

a culling

razor wire
across the
dermal plane

“bring out
your dead”
she said
her cart
overflowing

i saw him look
back one last
time with
tired eyes

he witnessed a

poison apple
devoured
seeds and all
a new harvest
and a curtain call

as he was wheeled
away he thought
“i once held a
garden in my palm”

&
when the soil
encased him
he recalled
a living room fire
echoes
of a warm
song