The Wind Understands You Best by Kristin Garth

published in Stage Door Press

The wind doesn’t want you to hide.  Pushes 

its way inside two doors closed tight one 

springtime night.  Beckons you outside. Rush

toward a scent which waited out the sun 

to waft when the nocturnal succumb.  Some 

mimicked pheromones do not compel the bees

alone but also girls in spring overcome —

white petals your pleasure pulverized.  Need 

more against bare skin, crushed against cunt 

and then within as you lay on freshly cut 

grass, moonlit trespass, until you touch 

yourself to sleep.  At sunrise you will confront

gardenia bush denuded as your possessed

flesh.  The wind understands you best.