i couldnt find the ignition

--

they call me roethke

as i sleep

among the rotting clumps of

--radishes

i am no virgin fucking mary

--though in a pew

politely i kneel

--

i have grown a garden

to be closer

to eliminate boundaries,fences

--but do i decay

regress like murdered birds?

--he built wire walls

--around my herbs

now i fear nature rejects them

--

is he an artist? quite

--the contrary

he hires girls,he

--uses flesh to hide

--how miserable how guilty

--and i swear i’ve shared his bed

--no more than once or twice

-- (if we are excluding

desperate nights)

--

see i am

see! listen! here i am, i am

not

--hearing you

--so shudder

--violently back to your casket

you ugly, wretched

--dream.

--