Rivals
When we lived in the country
green things sprouted from my darling’s fingers.
He could not keep himself
from digging in the dirt.
Inspired by garden catalogs in white
midwinter, he dreamed abundant asters,
slim hepatica, nasturtiums snaking
tendrils through the grass.
In spring he filled all pots with soil,
pressed in the seeds, then fretted
like a broody hen awaiting incubation.
How he loved the first pink lipstick
tips of the peony, pursed petals
of the blue balloon flower,
determined ferns that tried
to clone themselves in the loamy soil
of their neighbors’ pots.
I had to fight them for a place
at the window as they crept over the sill
like sightless kittens. Adversaries all.
Little did he guess I was just another
blow-in, struggling to dig down,
take hold, find a living in the light.
Angela Patten’s publications include four poetry collections, most recently The Oriole & the Ovenbird (Kelsay 2021). Read more.