JK Miller

FOREVER CHEMICALS I suspect something in the garden is killing me. Pulling out the dead stalks on hands and knees. Dried larkspur pods pour over black grains. Poppies' big hard ovaries shake. Salt and pepper bombs burst. Take cover. Anoint me valley, table, cup. Me thinks purple as in waves of grain and deep-sleep red—-as in fields of dorothy— neurotoxic psoriasis. By what authority do the