How Did Her Garden Grow
It was sick rabbit. It was deathday
on a stone path. The long grass howled
with insects as if they were
corpses beating their hands against
the tough soil, wanting
to be let out. Ripe mangoes were
pricked open by birds, the flesh
thick with bluebottles.
In the midst of it, a wart-backed toad
crept out---a god of sorts---
for that Sunday walk just before
the rev of dawn.
