Poem in the Form of an Overgrown Garden

Its rot & ferment,
inedible berries, red

holly blots, drupes
boot squashed, hoof-

stomped, the juice
brown & gnat-lapped.

Order descends
along some dirt

path, vine-thorned
& cloying, its brambles

dying for attention.
Meticulous cut grass

dies out, thin reeds
& blown dandelions

coursing through
the gaps, brittle dried

stems snap on the shoulder
or thigh, the declining

life. Someone will
tell you about cycles,

nutrients ingurgitated,
but this is not natural,

or rather, it is, if rebelled
against. But why fight

for a garden grain-plucked
by hungry sparrows?

Near withered hedges,
a chipped marble

birdbath, its water sludge,
red scum on the basin,

where the crows wash food,
avian bones & egg shells,

guts among the algae.
Winter sets in, snowflakes,

freezing rain, & this ruin
aches. No, I ache. 

Michael Pittard is an English lecturer at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. He has an MFA from UNCG and is a former poetry editor of The Greensboro Review. His poetry has appeared in such publications as Cola Literary Review, The Appalachian Review and The Citron Review. More: Twitter @MichaelTPittard + Instagram @the_cavalry_captain