Sample Poem
Violet
There are no biologists anymore,
only blacksmiths
She found a book in a box of items
to be buried with her grandmother—
inside, photos of plants, with green, green
leaves, purple petals, slender stems
droplets of water collecting picturesquely as if
they knew they were being archived
for a dry, dead future
She gets to work sketching
crafting, heating, molding, painting
an object, yet a whole once-world.
The authors cannot answer her questions,
they cannot see what was reaped,
what was fought, and lost, what was ignored
Not real, she repeats as she works,not true
but that word means nothing,
Many things are not real now—
her food, her sky, her arm
When she is finished
she holds it up against the yellow light
is satisfied with the sheen,
the deceptive life of it—
she sticks it in the red earth,
turns the sprinklers on