Mulch

I’ve had it I’ve had it I’ve had it! The robin shouts from the branch. You and me

both, brother. Our screams

mean: I want you badly, please

come hither. I cannot

forever go to botanic gardens, caress moss and lichen, pressed

against trees and longing

to roll in dirt, longing to stroke

lamb’s ears and admiring the coarse skin

of other leaves. The bumblebees’ buzz

rings extremely judgemental.

My jealousy–

Their sweetness–

I cannot bear this any longer.

In my desk window, the blunted mint. I want the garden I want the garden

I want the garden I want it–

We go on with our song

until you are covered.