I will plant sunflowers
in the hollows we have dug
with a rusty spade
it is time to pull old roots
rotten with dead habit
in this neglected garden
long-choked
by winter’s breath
it is time to till the soil
let it soak in fresh April rain
steam in this year’s sun
and exhale pungent fumes
until its pores are free
to seed new grass
and soft beds for my flowers.
© Neetu Malik
She needs to dig deep
to pull the roots
that grow under her feet
to do so requires strength
It must have been
a stormy night
when love flew out the window
of my vacant room
like a feather
from a molting bird.
she gathers dreams that were
shattered in the last storm
fragments burnt and charred
when lightning struck, turned
an armful of hopes to ash—
she laces them into a willow hoop
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