Crow Poem Revisited: Therapist Garden by Mark Tulin

I have a garden
full of baldheaded, bifocaled
therapists with sofas, chairs
and shelves of esoteric books
with all the answers inside their pages.

I water them once a day
with my problems and concerns,
fertilize them
with plenty of pain and angst
and guilt that won’t go away.

I make sure
the therapists have sufficient sunlight
to jot down important notes,
and plenty of reasons to say:
What would you like to talk about?
And, that’s all the time we have today.

I prune the issues
that I tirelessly worked through,
weed the therapists who lose their
objectivity, and compost
all my childhood memories.