I have a garden of green
with gourds and melons
and the one I love buried
beneath the lawn.
Touching fronds and shining blades
I touch her fingers, whisper caress;
A tree in my arms,
branches biting and pricking,
I imagine her rough hair on my face.
There are a thousand shades of green.
There are a thousand plants around us,
My lips meet the crumbling earth, her skin--
Are her eyes a thousand ants?
Are her ears the careful cups
of tulips,
turned to listen?