Nov 232015
unmoved by mud-suck beseeching my feet
i dug the lady slippers
stabbing at the loam
hacking where rocks and roots joined
kneeling sweating
short of breath
tribes of ferns gathered
stooped like monks
boughs of the tallest pines hushed
clouds shadowed down
the ladies nodded helpless
chins bobbing above the bucket’s rim
as we bumped the rutted mountainside
back home
where i potted them next to the iris
watered and weeded them
till they withered
drooped
died
that fall i burned their remains
stood poking at my inferno
glimpsing the sum of cruel pleasures
the balance of my life might bring
each crisp leaf blade
singing flames