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.


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