 |
| by Bailey Loveless |
I
must have done something wrong with my cottage in the woods.
For
instead of fair winged fairies, there’s a goblin in my garden.
Her
hair is wild and uncombed,
Her
nails dirty, her denim shredded.
She
hoards all the mushrooms and she’s covered in sweat.
But
her pointy teeth smile and she says
she
is happy.
Come
down, way down to the garden, she says, with the dirt, and the worms, and the
microbes.
Remember the time when men truly
were made of mud.
Hey,
has anyone checked in on Atlas lately?
I
meant to bring him dinner,
but
it sort of slipped my mind.
He
thinks he might have arthritis.
Last
we spoke, he complained
of
burning shoulders,
of
tired aches in all his joints.
You
forgot to see him too?
Do
you think we should hire out,
look
into some geriatric care?
4.5
billion years is a long time
to
keep it all together.
Dear
beloved earthly mother,
Thank
you for this day.
Thank
you for all the many blessings you have given us.
Please
bless our home and shelter that it may hold us safely.
Please
bless the dirt that it will nourish and strengthen our food.
Please
bless the air we breathe that it might be purified.
In
the name of the flowers, and the birds, and the human spirit,
Amen.
MEET THE POET
BAILEY
lives in between the land and the sea, writing weird, emotive tales about
animals, monsters, the feminine, the sublime, and the strangest of all
creatures, mankind. She writes and performs Gabriela & The Inn Between, a
scripted fiction podcast. Keep up with her and her work on Twitter, Instagram,
or at www.baileyloveless.com
