Core-upted Gardens

A cratered core

in the midst of our middle,
bears a token of love and war
worn both big and little.

A hallowed sore
in the midst of our middle 
carries our lore 
like an unspoken riddle. 

It’s the first love we’ll ever know.
It’s the first love we’ll preserve,
and it’s the same love we’ll grow, 
even if it’s less than what we deserve. 

This hallowed ground is your garden,
the only one you’ll ever get,
so don’t welcome or pardon
even the slightest decay or threat. 

If love had a taste, 
I think it would be metal,
for we enter this world bloody-faced,
and depart it just as gentle.