The Garland Of
To begin—is a poor excuse for filling the winterbox.
To speak—the voice wears a fake moustache.
To enter—down the rabbit hole, all wet and appled.
To protect—the chocolate revolver melts in its holster.
To learn—stop listening to the shoulder bird.
To invent—shorthands weather and labor in the tomato.
To correct—alternate balm, bomb, and swab.
To outlast—study alchemical pickle.
To lose—the nature of things.
To function—sharpen the surgical saw.
To forget—requires heroic ointment.
To hold—use a spool of red thread and the best knots.
To heal—administer the burn syrup.
To serve—with a fat spoon that wishes itself a knife.
To fail—use what I have.
WILLA CARROLL has been published in Tin House, Readings for Writers
(13th edition), and has work forthcoming in the Spring 2010 issue of
Tuesday; An Art Project. She is a MFA candidate in the Bennington
Writing Seminars. She lives in New York City.

