Poetry My chest grows a gardenmy heart rests in grassI water the weeds with her tears and her laughs.My ribs are the rivers, my gut is the lawnverdant with dreams, for her hopes to feed on.My chest grows a gardenfor her heart to reside:My love is like flowers growing inside.
Kirstin Angus Wood
Poetry How lonely the moonwe love in two ways:once for her fullness,then her going away. How lonely the rosewe love in one way:the gasp of her bloommarks the start of decay. How lovely my wifewho is loved all the time.She outlives the snapshotsthat capture her life.