When she came into my garden, my soil was in terrible tilth
She put her tools in my hands and taught me how to sow.

(This ruined my garden for some time
But I was too naive, too young to know.)

“We’ll have the most beautiful garden,” she told me
As she buried her seeds in my bed. “It’ll be ours.”

(I wondered why she chose me
A tool she could shape to become hers.)

Our garden was alluring, alkaline. The roses grew
Full and lush, petals the deep blush of blood.

(I did not see the thorns, razor-sharp and cruel
The roots, constricting, threatening to flood.)

I apologized, coughed up puce petals—chlorotic leaves
scraped my throat while she continued to lament.

(Thorns stick in my skin and I was made anaerobic
For the leaves. She did not comment.)

It was night.
I clutched the shears.

(Her and her roses needed to be gone
Even as I did not recognize the tears.)

The sun rose. Desiccated blossoms and vines, body bloodied
With scars. My throat felt desolate without her leaves.

(That nothing will ever grow again
in my garden is what I believed.)

I choked on roses’ rot as I went to direct seed
Ghosts of vines made my chest ache with abuse.

(I missed their constricting pressure
Like the pleasure of pressing a bruise.)

Then you came into my garden, palms up, advised
About companion planting, humus, and aeration.

(You revived my soil, germinated my healing
Stark against retrospection of her temptation.)

Now roses from you wilt on my windowsill
As I am made perennial through perpetual rebirth.

(Roses provided freely are so much sweeter
Than the seeds she coerced into my earth.)

Rhys Hodson

Biography: Rhys is a fiction/poetry writer and visual artist who has been creating ever since they could hold a pencil. He loves to explore the beauty and hope that live alongside darker themes in his work, often gravitating towards the natural world. They also are committed to providing queer and disabled representation. He intends to pursue a creative writing program at graduate school, and hopes to become a fantasy/sci-fi author in the future.

Artist Statement: “The Garden” shows how often roots may grow and constrict unknowingly, and how to grow beyond them.