you fall down and land in your garden where the damn weed still stands, still too arresting and fearful to touch, so you give it the side eye, ask lightning to strike it from your garden—but the skies are not yours to command, after all you are a daughter of the sea—and smothering it with water seems too cruel of an ending, even for the devil, so instead you surround it with irrigation, lay down your finest engineering—are you insane? likely but you cannot resent the weed, only feed it until mother ocean calls you back to the deep—to wait for the growth that is not yours to watch, only trust <br> ![[8-daughter-sea-pic.jpg]] ## notes when i first wrote about the weed in [[devil of the garden]], i thought it represented le objet of desire. then i got to the end and realized it's not the object; it's desire itself. it's the self.