Member-only story
mulch
Dec 21, 2021
lifeblood — it spreads overground
split, chipped…under no cordate moon
glistering like red-ant-covered mounds
neither you nor i nor we are immune
to its high-decibel recycled howl
ow-ooooooooooooooooooooh
to its primordial integrity befouled
ow-ooooooooooooooooooooh
hear the bands of quietus from the yard?
they know the truths by now; apoloGISTS
belting out to knights and dames of discard
who hear nothing through their mouthy fists
— its purpose? all-purpose. mimosa pods
and dried pink petals and feathers of plover
in its vest on overmolded, overwatered sod;
is not life but mulch, a slow decaying cover?
