Gabriella Garofalo writes

Is that you? C’mon, c’mon, don’t shy away,  
Darn your polluted blood, there’s poetry there -  
Death you don’t curse if old hags  
At the bottom of the house give no shelter no food,  
But simply live your breath, your enemy at dawn -  
Stop saying fathers,  
Not wombs nor hands fathers got,  
Stop saying he worked by his hands,  
Stop saying this stop saying that -  
Oh, the dirt you can find in tabloids and souls:  
Locked doors, shredded glass all over the floor,  
The garden waits -  
You know it’s bound to happen  
So take care and hold your breath,  
Those crooked old branches don’t look  
Too keen on falling down, do they? -  
For next misapprehensions, soul,  
The garden still waits. 

[from "A Blue  Soul," Argotist Ebooks]

 Waiting Garden -- Alexis Lago