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Leaf by Leaf (R.H., 1962–2001) Let the slugs take the hollyhocks, trash the dank saucers of beer where they lay down in threes and gorged, drowning in honeyed surrender, the garden gnawed into swags of green lace leaf by leaf, slick-toothed destroyers crawling the highway veins. Let the body do what it wants, the belly round out to its perfect globe, the breasts tumble forth from their elastic vault. A woman I know has hung herself in a sunset-colored dress, each of her closing requests a tiny planet. A week ago we shared a glass of wine. Somebody folds her slender arms. Somebody makes a cross and kisses his thumb. Somebody else makes sure her silver earrings get to Lucy, gold to Joan. Why not let the garden go where it’s always been going, down in its wondrous excursion? June bug vs. hurricane, and then the steady rain. Your Honor I hereby relinquish, whatever’s left in puddles then to vapor. Your Highness I therefore yield. One of my tender rabbits to every stray. To each of your blue-black crows, a shining eye. 40 ...

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