In my garden
I grow monstrous things

Bright blooms of rage
Tangled stems with spiteful thorns
Whole hedges of fear

I keep their feet firmly buried
They won’t wander, won’t follow
Won’t appear somewhere unexpected

Like at a party
When people laugh
as my face turns brittle
When people talk
as I’ve swallowed my tongue

People

Monstrous things
With feet firmly buried

They grow strong
Now I’ve hidden their roots from view