Alyssa Sweeney

421 Wayne Ave,

Springfield PA 19064

Garden Song
You in the garden.
Your body in the garden.
Flesh alive, illuminated,
Drenched in sun.
Ivy curls around your ankles,
Tightening in the yolk-soft
Pad beneath the bone.
Wavering lattice light,
Wet soil at your toes.
Violet blooms at your knees,
Stems encircle shins.
You: a bone-made trellis.
Trillium trails up your navel,
Catching in the tender skin
Of your belly.
Bellflowers bloom around your wrists,
Plum and pulling.
You: a botanic spectacle.
Quiet among the leaves,
Glass-delicate hush.
Aster abides by your collarbones,
Petals splayed on flushed skin.
The ivy wraps around your throat,
Fragile, snappable stalk
Squeezed by viridescence.
Sunlight ebbs,
Shadows cast upon your face.
Lilies line your cheeks,
Pale and fragrant.
You: empty-winged cocoon.
Across your body:
A blush of flowers,
Bursting.
Calluna, acacia, amaryllis,
Clover, holly, camellia,
Chrysanthemum.
Christen, sing anthems
To the body adorned
The body unearthed, re-earthed,
Re-arranged.
You: a garden.
Your body: a garden.