By F. JORDAN CARNICE

Ungardened

Finally, after the longest lockdown, pale feet stir,
long to wander with an extra spring to each step

and the planes begin interrupting the skies
again from their unchallenged immensity.

Here in my garden, flea beetles and aphids
overrun the hibiscuses, buds shriveling

like the twists of parted clouds above.
We are told of ways to get through these

minor inconveniences but the pests
keep coming back. Another surge,

another shade of blue shed from the skies.
Are they really minor though when

the birds are missing at this hour
and each of our movement could be

the start of another long pause in our lives?
Where does this shroud of gray come from?

Why does the whole open space still feels
like a window we peer through from

the inside? Am I both witness and
accomplice to these changes?

I wish someone could just convince me
of a life hungry for more, make me want it

the way that split-second pushed Adam
to take the fruit from Eve: ungardened

but bold, intrigued, perfectly human.
If there is a secret to this, even if it means

having to wring it out of both gods
and saints, then tell me. Give me anything

that would take me out of this garden.

Boar, Proposed Addendum to Definition of

noun

: a storm with boundless intensity

: an aging comedian whose jokes have been retold again and again

: the weight of an idea (such as its preciousness, purpose, precarity)

: soaked back of a shirt, usually with perspiration after a long day of manual labor

verb

: to laugh even in the absence of humor

: to clear everything in one’s path or direction, with or without intention

|| the car lost its brakes and boared through the market stalls

adjective

: having or showing an abrupt but patterned action, or an expected response

: of that which will stay, not leave immediately or be pushed around

: impenetrable

F. Jordan Carnice is a writer and visual artist from Bohol. He graduated with a degree in Creative Writing from Silliman University in Dumaguete City in 2009, and was a fellow at the Silliman University National Writers Workshop in 2008. His works have appeared in Ani, Philippines Graphic, MIDLVLMAG, Anomaly, Sunday Mornings at the River, Quarterly Literary Review Singapore, Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine, among several others. He has won the poetry grand prize in the 2020 Cebu Climate Emergency Literature and Arts Competition for his poem “There is Too Much Light in this World.” He has authored two poetry chapbooks, Weights & Cushions [2018] and How to Make an Accident [2019].