kenyon

GARDENING


1.

A woman on her knees.
Sad dark fog you could lift
with a pitchfork. Gloved
hands, tomatoes, the wonder
how long since
thrill.


2.

Hands in the muck,
she dreamed there was another lover,
from the south, dirty words mixed with
maam like dust with rain into
workable clay. Who would love
the outlaw in her, let her
lie down in the steep
cleft of his woven hat. Her heart sags.
The neighbors hammock full of wet leaves.