I dreamed that I was made of sod,
tits up, my furry mounds set here and here.
Worms nestled in my woody roots, coneflowers
pink and hot adorned my hills. Kirk says
we should be golden orbs, not messy
mortal meat. But I have done this giving
birth, this glistening verb. Nan-ye-hi,
in Cherokee, on meeting Franklin:
I do not pull children from rocks and trees
but from my body. Therefore listen.
Lisa L. Moore‘s most recent book, Sister Arts: The Erotics of Lesbian Landscapes, is a study of women's garden designs, botanical illustrations, and landscape poems. Her own poems have appeared in Experiments in a Jazz Aesthetic, Sinister Wisdom, Broadsided, and Lavender Review. Her poem “Anthropomorphic Harp” was awarded the Art/Lines Juried Competition for Ekphrastic Poetry.