DIRT READY
Nicole Wilson A tree grows around anything: car tire, salon sign, fence post – that must be how bones grow around metal bars. Nothing aches all of the time. There was 1995
and a summer, ruining everything. It never asked permission to ruin, for example, the canned beets broke open over the stump.
The breeze mouthed us, stayed awake for three days. Night spread a gauze over watermelon seeds scattering the yard: the premonition of slough and spades.
WILSON âˆŤ 56