The Garden Path
Free Verse
I woke up in a galaxy of blue
with a piece of forest in each palm:
a pencil and a ruler for the wide expanse
of sea inside my parent’s house.
I treaded waves, tucked my #2
behind one feral ear, and memorized
the value of an inch. What to take the measure of?
Love was spyglass, sextant, ship:
I was captivated by the measureless.
I fell into the air like the flicker of a tail.
I guess they watched me disappear
from leaf to leaf until I touched
the scent
of honey dripping from the vines.
In a garden sculpted from the shade
my paws felt earth, then came the breath
of topiary beasts
declawed. I couldn’t lift
my father’s sword,
nor wear the shield my mother wore —
yet neither am I wholly wild, for I know
they meant no harm
when they armed me with fine implements
to circumnavigate the globe. I said no
