Spring 2012 • Vol. XXXIV No. 2 PoetryApril 1, 2012 |

Backyard

I wish I would garden, wish I had the ambition to visit my quarter acre daily, planning nature, to expand this home by creating that room, to cherish not resent the plot that represents potential. On the rare greenhouse visit, I make sure to inquire: what flowers can a working single mother with allergies, back trouble, and a dog plant in a jungle? (Sunlight's scarce, too.) Absurd to ask for blooms, but my daughters cherish cut flowers, at which my immigrant nature rebels: with land at your disposal, you undermine the strivings of generations by buying what's doomed and can't be eaten. Is there anything with petals, even ugly or small, strong enough to compete in unmulched beds, those evil plantains spreading while the humans read novels or roast a chicken? I don't expect a true solution. The answer's not in a nursery. The answer inhabits the psyche of the customer who yearns for nature to have discipline on someone else's terms, the consum

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Housing the Id

By J. Allyn Rosser

I wish I would garden, wish I had the ambition to visit my quarter acre daily, planning nature, to expand this home by creating that room, to cherish not resent […]

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