From your touch, I will sprout with leaves
By Canada Cutter
from your touch, I will sprout with leaves
sliding fingers up the side
of your face, the stubble
a garden with sweet peas
I snapped them open
to pull out the seeds
love from my dirtied hands
my ribs ache as they pull taut
under the palms, warm
flesh, that was what you fed
the deer on the back porch
and it ate, and ate
until the curves of a forearm
caught my attention
I remember the way you
burned so bright out there
in refrigerator light
I used to say that love
was like falling
but now I can only close
my eyes and know that love
grows like vines, like a
garden. there is nothing
that pries the ache from
under my nails
dirty but I found it
to be everything
The Trinity Review 