After the Marriage
Even the vegetable garden has its own narrative.
Watch as I dismantle this eyesore:
A mound of dirt and rock bordered
by cinder blocks. Good intentions,
terrible execution. Nothing about it leveled
or anchored, and the netting of backyard oaks
kept the light from conversing with the basil,
the tomatoes that rotten on the vine.
Nothing left here but the detritus
of last fall’s leaves and in the far corner
a profusion of chive, green and vibrant,
enough to make me think, just for a instant,
there’s something worth saving.