Miles to think

Comb the earth for

a better way to plant

memories

 

It’s not spring yet

 

Condition the ground with

the oil of skin, water of tears

Cover the black soil.

Who knows what may come up

surprise heat

surprise sun and blue and

branches budding too soon

—so you say, only they know

and make their own time—

 

Dig a hole.

Put yourself inside

and walk away.

 

This path you’ve memorized

is in your mind

and the mind is like a river

flood her and she will be redirected,

move differently and she can

and will change.

 

Go home. Stay.

31poemsMegan Jones