mind garden
it was through the
language of modest
flowers
that i became
a lover outside of my skull
it was the cats with human
eyes that showed me first,
docile and warm
on every corner
of every bookshelf
before i say anything to
you i confront the cats
today it was about how i see
through the coral, queer
light that hides in
chandeliers
at night
my arms
bloom into two ferns
my skin a lake
spread thin and dry
for autumn’s dress
& through it
you palmed
but there, something left you
from scooping through
the warmth of my cheeks,
heat lamps for fresh
rabbits
lush and attached
the roots of our hands
forced together by glass terrarium
your forehead and mine
two gardens
smoothed by the rake
that pulls
earth, fear
from my eyes,
coldness to the depths
of my soles
& as we lapse on
together through new and old
this harshness lets from my
feet,
snail trails behind
so that we can walk
new paths
in sun colors.
Daisy Kulina grew up in the Bitterroot Valley just outside of Missoula, Montana. She now studies in Vermont at Middlebury College and is working towards a bachelor's degree in Creative Writing and Gender, Sexuality, and Feminist Studies. When she is not writing, Daisy is probably talking to her chickens, sewing some new clothes, or napping by the river.