There was this world
my escape
but the demand for my attention was too great
fantasies nudged me awake all hours
the picturesque garden and nipping faries
and the words
they poisoned my proper shapes
in such a fantastic way
in a way hope was made toxic
And so I tilled but not for long
my pride got the best of me
for the world was much too fertile
and I confused the growth
for the jars of jam I canned through the winter.
-Saschia Johnson
Yum. can i come and taste the jam?
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