Below me the earth softens and parts,
water drips into crevasses mucked
with moss.
Alien nubs
of hyacinths crack the damp soil,
a drop of rain crowns
a flower bud.
Mosquitoes hatch
and follow warm blood, the children
plumped,
succulent at the backyard
birthday party, swinging sticks
at a piñata shaped like a hive
hard candy asteroids,
the hum
and buzz of the lawn care guys.
They say I'll lose another arm, the man
speaks of a saw and a hatchet, the woman
invokes pruning and garden gloves.
"Or we could dig it up
and plant another one"
Once she wound her body round
my roughness and hung on.
By Reka Jellema
Copyright July 2015