From “Apple Wine”
I want to touch grass, to crawl into daylight slowly,
limbs emptying into each grain of sand,
want to seed my body into the earth
until autumn rises, pick tomatoes,
peel the thin layer of promise to a center.
Behind me, I want you:
a handful of smoke,
a garden that whispers, a broken glass, my pulse.
Ten poetry posts on SFCC campus showcase Lauren Camp’s poetry.