soil talk

POETRY Robin Gow

turn me now, it is not yet winter & there are still grasshopper songs to be eaten with a fork. the river you gave me is dull now & i want another one. i need love in handfuls & pitfalls. plummets & heaps. i do not want love in tomorrows & someday-we-wills. give me the garden. the tomatoes & the tubers. thrust your fingers into everything soft. i do not want to be alone as the rain comes to make promises of every bean that will come & necklace me. i bury the trumpet. you could kiss every single leaf. shovel. trowel. spoon.

no houses for homes or homes for houses

Kadazia Allen-Perry