Sweet garden,

we have dug our earthy digits

Down your throbbing gullet.

Choked on rain like turkey neck,

we shook dew from your willow trees

Suckled at your balmy salve, and wet

our jowls with you.

Like goblins, we have drunk the nectar

From each other’s breast, seen

the soft fatness of the worm.

This bed in which we lay,

Unknown to any who do not victualate

The worm, inoculating life.

Garden, we must feed you

Our gathered lips

Mossy skin

Cool and wet

Like a vine-ripened bruise