Fairy Tale for Gardeners

Angela Wei

He, donning the

skeleton of marriage,


knelt for her. & they

seeded flowers,


glassy as

a backhand’s kiss,


while the sun hammered

their oyster-breath into


memory. I unwound when

the night cracked open, like


hands against a mouth

whipped into rope

.

Here: a ribcage & the stub

of a singed home.


Its ashes shooting

into daisies. Its bones


breaking into earth. The

ruin


blackening by the second.

Because he forgot


to catch the roses

in porcelain


shells. Because he—

because she— because


I fell out of flowers

& they told me it was love.