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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