MY GARDEN
In my garden I am often ankle deep in peace
And my head is fleshed within the mind of God
When each day I root out weeds and dead growth
I remember the work still to do with sins remaining
Lying in the regions of roots and worms and serpents
And my soul feels the pull of the garden’s twin in paradise
And knows it can’t stay here much longer in the mud below
Suspended outside together with the poisoned demons
Breathing the same air as the malevolent hemlock
Swinging to the wicked rhythm of a perverse dark breeze
In the abandoned corner of this twin garden hiding
Hanging heavy in the land of the Harlot and the Unclean.
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