Mystery juice in the bushes,
tattered condoms, shriveling squids,
swarming urgently through mud.
Statue of Artemis; your hand came
away coated with green. You cried
lichen-tears, spoiled your dress.
And when you were a girl, the trees
spoke, you said, of loneliness.
The wind was once a rough palm.
Contributor’s Notes: Katharine Diehl was born in Brooklyn but dreams of a country escape. Maybe when she am a rich, famous, and successful career poet. She has a B.A. in psychology and has been published in Assisi Journal. She attended the 2012 New York State Summer Writers Institute on scholarship. She blogs about writing, the creative process, and other things at frozenseawriting.tumblr.com.