Francine writes her dreams in the garden. A tulip: someone kissed her. Partridge pea: she drowned in the sea. When I bend in the dirt, it hurts, she writes, whatever I’ve lost, drinks sunlight. Francine gardens dreams, gives them roots. Jacob’s ladder, lavender. I no longer feel weightless, St Gabriel, she writes, I make this. All this. Francine dreams her garden into being. One day a tree, she writes, when I dream instead of drowning, I am. The sea. Francine knows how a heart broke to love the world.