Blood In the Garden
By Madra Furman
The sun illuminates the blue
tangle of my veins.
I want to claw them out
and plant them
as trees
in the soil of my childhood home.
My blood will soak each grain of dirt
so when
my body is stolen,
my blood still lives in the garden
and belongs to me.
Poetry
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- Blood In the Garden by Madra Furman
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