The Garden of Wood by Jeanne Larsen

Is not built
of thick trunks & board-feet.

It yields. Or fractures.
It’s a cavern of shadow,

luminous brown, chestnut
or oak, mahogany

red. It rots
into itself. Can be made

orderly. Yet prefers its own
stories: canopy, under

layer, roots coiled like fiddleheads.
It tends other gardens

with shreds of its skin.
Its secret is bending, is also

refusal to bend.


Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s