Our garden is full of pornography

Our garden is full of pornography
buried near the great tree
under the gables of the hydrangea
and the gaze of the whirring crows

The earth is swollen and moist
behind the shed
beneath the wood cuttings
and moaning below the shuddering fence
away in darkness
in parts untouched

You would not recognize yourself
as you are seen
from atop the tree
below the leaf green stars
you are another blade of grass
so much less than the little men
that stow away in its
branches
in nests lined with simplicity
and impossible laughter