popcorn garden

in a handful, i live like bees.
trees on their iphones say, "i am almost here."
the garden had bad service & brown paper bags.
i hid myself in piles. the movies came
with their butter & police men. 
we watched over & over until the roses
had learned how to speak all our dead languages.
crunching on a mourning dove heart.
kernels for eyes. all i can hear are rustling leaves.
trash bags full of eyelashes. the garden 
stopped weeping & so i started. it went wrong.
so wrong. i convinced myself only i could see it.