garden lizards
poem
Italian wall lizards make the public gardens here their home
nobody quite knows how they arrived or
how they survive Boston’s winters,
only that as the trees begin to blossom and
the flowers start to bloom
they reemerge and
dash across the gravel paths or
sun themselves on a fallen branch.
“Still here,” they proclaim
as do I

as do i 🥲
i love your poetry so much it’s not even funny