Laws

a poem by Roger B Rueda

are now circumstance like virulent toxic put in

like nameless berries

in the garden, deliberate & posited,

their gazes so dumb like gourds

hanging from their trellis.

Guard against them –

they’re noxious when the gardener

wants to set you against everyone

in the garden.

It’ll come to be pestilential,

in a flash, so mystical,

so mercurial.

It’s a ruse, not a rose –  

everyone can scoff them,

but only on the sly,

or amongst heavies,

or amongst mangoes, bananas,

pumpkins, lemons, curries,

valenciana, yolks, honeydews,

mums, ylang-ylangs,

sunflowers, corns, ducklings!

When the gardener spurns you,

don’t be a grasshopper grasping

at a spur; you’ll snuff it.

Remember you’ve had the deadly drupes.

They all will finger you

as if only you were filthy.

Slope off in silence

before everyone yanks you out of the garden.