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The Bird Soup Diaries's avatar

Also this: The Secret Garden

BY RITA DOVE

I was ill, lying on my bed of old papers,

when you came with white rabbits in your arms;

and the doves scattered upwards, flying to mothers,

and the snails sighed under their baggage of stone . . .

Now your tongue grows like celery between us:

Because of our love-cries, cabbage darkens in its nest;

the cauliflower thinks of her pale, plump children

and turns greenish-white in a light like the ocean’s.

I was sick, fainting in the smell of teabags,

when you came with tomatoes, a good poetry.

I am being wooed. I am being conquered

by a cliff of limestone that leaves chalk on my breasts.

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The Bird Soup Diaries's avatar

How wonderful and congratulations on your recent betrothal 💒 💕🌸💚 Your essay reminded me of the words Seamus Heaney texted to his wife before he died: 'Noli timere' – 'don't be afraid.'"

That’s the kind of love that endures. Best of luck for your wedded future 🥳

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