Polly loves to grow things. She has a delicious garden full of fruits, herbs, vegetables, tubers, and flowers. I often wonder what it would be like to be back there again, clawing at the soil, pulling weeds with both hands and eating strawberries right off the stem. Something tells me I shouldn’t have left, that I should be in the garden with Polly.
you fell for me
like a drop of rain
knowing
every thorny rose
needs water
First published in Atlas Poetica