An edge cut between lawn and garden bed,
dark and wet, pleases me. I scarce believe
it exists, so virtual it’s been.
Dahlias turn to the sun, blaze.
What is it to be stem, leaf, flower from spring
through autumn, tuber all winter.
Alliums dip earthward, shower seeds from starry
umbels. Onions in flower beds next season.
Transgressions happen.
My feet sink into the lawn’s green sward.
Each blade strains toward the lovely curve,
the damp, bare earth, ready to cross
from the real to the real, underground and
over, stitching cat mint, lamb’s ear,
bee balm.
Sue Lockwood’s poems have appeared in Heat, Island, Mascara Literary Review, Antipodes, 14 magazine (UK) and ear to earth, Central Coast Poets anthology 2017. Sue lives in Melbourne.
