Did you read her letters
\nabout the garden? Not yet?
\nYou should; they shed
\nconsiderable light
\nupon her state of mind
\nin the months leading up to
\nthe whole nasty business.<\/p>\n
In May, third week, I hear them Her final words investigators found the note The mentally ill, while they have rights, should not be in charge of their own treatment. #1090 Continue reading
\nshe wrote about her garden,
\nand it’s quite telling.
\nShe can’t wait for the carrots
\nto come along;
\nshe wants to pull them
\nout of the ground and
\nlick them clean,
\nsharpen them<\/em>
\nshe says,
\nthen use them for something
\nthat frightens her:
\nswords maybe in a desperate
\nstand that nobody wants,
\nleast of all she.<\/p>\n
\nthe evil ones
\nthey whisper behind the trees
\nat night around the house
\nthey are coming<\/span><\/em>,
\nshe says, underlining the word
\nwith force that breaks the lead.
\nShe has tried to wipe away
\nthe tiny spray of graphite
\nfrom the page:
\nsmeared fingerprints bloom
\ndown the side of the page.<\/p>\n
\nalmost indecipherable:
\nthey have no eyes
\nbut see me better
\nin the dark
\nthe only hope<\/span><\/span><\/em>
\nshe scribbles over the word
\nand writes chance
\nis to chop off their wings<\/em><\/p>\n
\nin the crib inside a cornhusk baby
\nshaped by multiple twisted
\nroots and braided strips of basswood,
\nsurrounded by shards of broken carrots.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"