hands of the gardener

  You dig into the yellow earth pale,

  with life caked under your fingernails.

  Inching between birth, snails

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  with rotund homes pricked like sails

  silt through titanic pebbles, tempestuous pools

  pouring from metal tin—cool

  to your godly touch.

  I kneel beside you, such

  Cosmos littered with muddy divinity.