A Poem

In the Garden

I buy a tomb in the garden and cover it 

with silk lilies. You see how the sun creeps in, illuminating

the flowers in their beds. What is this bright 

day, branded into our eyes where light and dark meet?

I want you to sit beside me where no one can see us.

You come here each Sunday, the birds chirping 

loud, discursive scribbles, where we each 

discover the other with the evening coming ahead

of the morning. I want all this. I want to seek 

and not find, to knock and behold no answer. No man

or child knows his way back from here, where sunshine

cannot tan and heat cannot draw sweat. I have been here

only once, living close to the wheel, hearing the earth

end in the gravel. You tell me to listen for my name now.

You say lightning can strike me where I stand.

Joel Fry

*Previously published in Asheville Poetry Review. 

If you want to read more of my poetry please purchase Late Alabama by Joel Fry. It is available through Amazon.