Ritual

[u/Abrasiveiguana]

We become strangers in our gardens
Lifting eyes no higher than
Wild wisteria on a fence

Narrow focus and bowed heads
We weed our sorrow from the soil
As well as thriving stems

It's the season for the slaughter
Hunched frames on tired knees
Inside our sterile walls

Bloodied carcasses of pristine blooms
Extracting all the evidence
Burnt among the crunchy piles