Lisa In Wonderland

May 1, 2013

When I ordered my knight to chop off your head
I said “Off with his head!”
And I planted your head in my garden.

I watered you every morning
As the hot sun beat down on my skin and I felt
like a leather coat on the wrinkled skin
of an old woman wearing that perfume you like.
But I never wear perfume.

When you sprouted from the ground you were a small stick
Poking around like my tongue poking
Around your insides and your tiny branches grew poems instead of
leaves. The birds picked at your words until they understood
And their songs changed tunes and the tune sounded like your limbs moving.

Your insides grew in my garden and I climbed them sometimes.
Your words bring me closer to an infinite space
I can never reach but I can almost feel with heavy bones.
The birds sing your poetry
Using chirps of various pitches and they never
get tired of it.

When I chopped off your poems
It was because I was tired and I lost my knight.
I climbed to the tippiest top of your highest branch and
I destroyed all of your words with my teeth
But the birds kept singing.

The birds have turned into your limbs.
One bird is an elbow and its mother is a leg.
And your head is still buried
In my garden.

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