I woke with morning clinging to my skin,

its coolness fell like quiet things. My bones

felt heavier than the limestone bedrock 

deep beneath the musky loam. Human eyes

winked coyly from the purple iris heads 

reaching above me in the quiet garden.

Honeysuckle spring air stirred the garden,

calling me to something more wild. The skin

of flowering glories dropped, and heads

turned jealous green. I tried to lift my bones

to see, but all my limbs felt stiff as rock.

And all the purple irises turned their eyes

to squint down on my strangely sleeping eyes

that dreamily saw their living garden

home. Twisted roots held me to their bedrock

and I am sure they wondered if my skin

peeled away like theirs. I only have bones,

I said as laughter shook their stalky heads.

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