By Aidan Anthony
No man is an island but a woman is a landslide, and her shoulders shake and crash and break
Like waves on piping plovers
I eat clover because I saw bees do the same thing and now my teeth are stained green
And I’m saying thank you to the gardeners who helped me learn to speak the truth
To take the runoff from that mountain and learn to make good soup
From leeks and yams and heaps of peas that peep up in the spring
And remind me that no one cares if I don’t know how to sing
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