He is the Farmer of My Midnight Garden

We kiss only from dusk to dawn

and let fervent fragrance intoxicate us

Slugs and leeches excreting whitish froths

spiders entangle in resinous webs

Scorpions squirt pre-mixed venom

of sweetened honey and Death Cap’s poison

Because daytime peels our skin

like a tree shedding concentric rings

Twilight moons rain waters on our soils

and warm our moss-laden, loamy bed

I draw him into my leafy embrace

he unfurls like ferns, expelling spores

I’m the Queen of the Night,

sitting on the crown of a virgin cactus

My pistil licks the elixirs of dews

sprinkled from this eternal Aether

Blind moths spray bouts of glinting dust

fireflies staggering their lanterns into the void

A puff of wind scatters our masculine whiffs

and we bloom, cross-pollinate, deflower

Sylvan nectar oils our tendrils and thorns,

hence our touches—slippery, salty, watery, flowery

I bite his teeth, rosy lips bleed like rose petals

we hug like vines, our girthy stems entwine

He is the Farmer of My Midnight Garden

sowing man-seeds, ploughing my man-womb

Often we chant love litany into the shrubs

but our chirps tune into deafening blasts

Our roots dive deep into uterine-shaped earth

our pouches bear berries and melons, sweet and sour

We have never dreamed of all the lights

in the garden, our love is all seven colours

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About the Author

Ismim Putera (he/him) is a medical officer from Sarawak, Malaysian Borneo. As an emerging queer poet, he writes poetry and reads speculative fictions at night. Some of his work can be found in Anak Sastra and Kunyit Squared Zine Vol 1.