The Necklace Garden

    For my part, I spied red berries
    on a currant bush
    lush in August;
    the canopy of leaves
    a nesting place for hornets
    clocking one hundred
    in & out of their ice-castle hive.
    Birds had fled in horror,
    there was a pallor
    around the sun
    and nearby a Hubbard squash
    grew like Topsy
    already several baskets in size.

    I threatened suicide
    in this herbivorous garden
    amid wild canaries and butternuts;
    my jangled nerves a lobster colour
    only calmed by more grievously
    afflicted tobacco hornworms,
    their skins pierced by the radar alum
    of wasps.

    Transformed into insect angels
    strumming away the afterlife,
    they arrived as ghosts to comfort me.

    Fresh, spring potatoes grew like serendipity
    under a pleasant summer sky.
    The smell of good earth
    revived above
    the saltpetre muddle
    of the humanoid puzzle.

    Later, the night became a lavender cloak,
    her folds sweet orifices
    of a pleasure bound woman.