“Be no Flatterer, neither Play with any that delights not to be Play’d Withal.” G. Washington
The water refuses to breathe
for the fish. The air refuses
to slow the light, and the light won’t
mute, gentle, or bend in rainbows.
The garden crawls away from earth,
into wire arcs and plastic tubes.
Ice doesn’t know how to rot, so
it simply melts and fades away.
The chill that slept cozy beneath
erodes, becomes restless, tossing,
and turning, crying out in dreams
of relentless heat and sorrow.
Soil long blanketed becomes raw,
shivers with heat and burns with cold,
prickling root deep and static shocked
as if air’s nerves moan no, please no.