How round your name is, Miriam, mira your tulip, calla, daisy, comfrey crown, your knobby peach pulsing light like Hera, its surfeit a challenge to all the known nouns, the globe of its strange normalcy, the sound of roundness, of gladness and how I crave things round And black, like this starless wakefulness, this distant … Continue reading My mother’s secret garden – Judy Swann
