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


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.

Fiction, Short StoriesIsmim Putera