In the garden between rows
of newly green lettuces
curled leaves overlapping
one another closely
so tight at the center unloosing
the frilled fragrance of soil
as the green deepens ripens opens readies
we are both unsure if we can breathe
the sweet peas climbing the shaky trellis
the tendrils slipping between the slats
to latch a breath, a gasp
the whole earth shudders beneath us
the red blood tomatoes fruit heavy and full
the flowering summer squash yellow sweet
cones of nectar cords of vine
radishes carrots peppers corn
moan under the moonlight
dancing crimson gold the molten deep
the hidden seed the melon in the dirt
the coarse weight and mounded flesh
and ours
we rise
the earth knows our secrets
the silent depths that gather us
back again and back again.
Euphemism Campus Box 4240 Illinois State University, Normal, IL 61790-4240 |