The Necklace Garden

For my part, I spied red berries         on a currant bush         lush in August;         the canopy of leaves         a nesting place for hornets         clocking one hundred         in & out of their ice-castle hive.         Birds had fled in horror,         there was a pallor         around the sun         and nearby a Hubbard squash         grew like Topsy         already several baskets in size.         I threatened suicide         in this herbivorous garden         amid wild canaries and butternuts;         my jangled nerves a lobster colour         only calmed by more grievously         afflicted tobacco hornworms,         their skins pierced by the radar alum         of wasps.         Transformed into insect angels         strumming away the afterlife,         they arrived as ghosts to comfort me.         Fresh, spring potatoes grew like serendipity         under a pleasant summer sky.         The smell of good earth         revived above         the saltpetre muddle         of the humanoid puzzle.         Later, the night became a lavender cloak,         her folds sweet orifices         of a pleasure bound woman.