Submission

by Shannon Blank

I water my yard with coffee
Before I lie on the grass
I carry the grounds to my berries
And walk an eggshell path.

I moved my yard to the hillside
And covered it over in mud.
I cut up the sod with a hatchet
And squished it down with my thumb.

I buried the well in the garden
And dug up the side of the house
I taught the mice how to vanish
And trained the cat not to pounce.

Give your care to what is nearest
Your love to what is best
Drown your fear in the bathtub
And sleep all night in the nest.

The honeybees are hungry
The tiny gnats are brave.
The stinging nettle’s jealous
Because it must behave.

The ivy and the asters
Would gladly run amuck
But they had to grow so slowly
That now their roots are stuck.

I eat my breakfast with honey
My lunch with strawberry jam.
My dinner is waited by fairies
My snacks by invisible hands.

Tomatoes in the morning
Raspberries every night
The ground hog in the garden
Has picked himself a fight.

Arm the boys with ball bats
The girls with long sharp shears
And if he pokes his head out
Then persecute his ears.

Put your trust in what is nearest
And your faith in what is best
Drink only the water that’s clearest
And plant for the season that’s next.

Shannon Blank is a young woman reading and writing in the border foothills of West Virginia.

Photography by Kenneth Godoy