Winter Promises


Tomatoes rosy as perfect baby’s buttocks,
Eggplants glossy as waxed fenders,
Purple neon flawless glistening
Peppers, pole beans fecund and fast
Growing as Jack’s Viagra-sped stalk,
Big as truck tire zinnias that mildew
Will never wilt, roses weighing down
A bush never touched by black spot,
Brave little fruit trees shouldering up
Their spotless ornaments of glass fruit:

I lie on the couch under a blanket
Of seed catalogs ordering far
Too much. Sleet slides down
The windows, a wind edged
With ice knifes through every crack.
Lie to me, sweet garden-mongers:
I want to believe every promise,
To trust in five pound tomatoes
And dahlias brighter than the sun
That was eaten by frost last week.


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Winter Promises