Keirtza Starfire

In the garden of mirrors

I pray to the worms

As they bury deep within holy mounds

The rabbits hunger for wax they call to me

as I crush boiled blueberries in my hands

No fruit in this garden will truly suffice

The strawberries have turned grey

And the soil is streaked against a violet peach

Skin turns to milk

Teeth turn into crystal

As snails leave glitter through my graveyard dreams