Two stands of
ornamental grass
Dried and rattling
Thin, hollow, like tiny
bird bones,
Sit at the north- and
southwest corners
Gray decaying lavender,
like a beached whale,
Quietly dies in the
southwest corner
Its once blue-green
leaves balding
To show the gnarled,
leafless interior
Opposite sits an
octopus rosemary,
Splayed and raunchy,
the evergreen fronds,
The old growth, ready
to spiral out green tissue
As soon as the shearer’s
back is turned
Purple-blue blossoms
browning,
Seeds dropping
rosemary’s babies
Spider-made sails once
stretched between the branches
Now even rags and
tatters gone
Quince buds untwist
into leaves and flowers
Variegated pink and
white
Tapered, aristocratic
thorns stand sentry
But snap at barest
pressure
Christmas-day planted
garlic
Reaches with narrow
green fingers
Through near frozen
soil
In that sunny spot
beneath the bird feeder
In the center, beside
the tiny three by three
Textured cement paver
courtyard
The branches of the
weeping willow
Make shepherd crooks
for the birds to loiter
Mint, damned mint
Crowds along the west
border
Through the grasses,
under the quince
And tickles the corpse
of lavender
I will have mint until
the day I die
And when I’m buried, I
will have
“She should have put
down a root barrier”
Engraved on my
headstone
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