the night gardener

nightly, at the perfect time

(ten-or-eleven-o’clock)

came the night gardener

the watchman of grapefruit, pomegranate, 

orange, persimmon–

fruits that bloom in the snow. 

fruits that show their tender skin to the elements

to allow for bruising and scabbing. 

nightly, at the perfect time, she hung chains of orange

from the green-hemmed balcony,

woven together with sprigs of daffodil and basil

from the frost of seasons past.

slowly, with the sound of each snapping stem,

she scolded the gardener

for gashing at each succulent sphere, 

pulling the meat of the fruit out of its enclosure 

with his bare hands.

nightly, at the perfect time,

comes the night gardener 

ferocious in his appeal

for chains of orange and the rainfall

of peels and stems

to softly strike his face, 

muddling and puddling his hair. 

Sia Moon is a young New Orleans-based writer of black and Buryat descent. Her writing has been featured in the Riverbend Review, Discretionary Love, and Lavendwriter Magazine. She has upcoming work in the Broken Teacup Dept., Eunoia Review, Chewers by Masticadores, and the 826 National Anthology.