SECRET GARDEN

 by Sophia Terazawa

In here, I write the last letter.
You have paid no mind

to Roanoke. Nature

was a gust sent
northward.

What I mean is somewhere
the drive came to an end.
Off, on your side, suffered a path

I couldn’t follow. What did you want?

The one deserving part?

Before, my notebooks
wrinkled well; I made a bed, then

lied in it. There was a movie
about bailing. What did I want
from the garden, which had been a door
once, and what more could I know?

You would become kinder next year.
You would be led by foot
through the meadowlands, home.

I might be there if the winds
love you back; I could be their wife.

Sophia Terazawa's debut novel *Tetra Nova* is forthcoming with Deep Vellum.