Dear Rotten Garden—

—who could bear to live next

to your wet humping sound—

—well I realize people do

absurd things in the world

they take off their skin

and don’t touch me—

—from a height I am some sweet

girl    albeit one who squeezed

when she meant to swerve—

—having amassed a weddingful

of nuisances and sword-tasting—

—having moved prudently and shoeless

away     I could hear    you behind me

spitting perverted economies—

—also having been the painter

who takes your instructions

among them nothing

about painting

but what translates to roll around on me

like you’re putting out a fire—