Aperçus Quarterly 2.1

SpiralWhat richer embodiment of great lovethan two half-moons of loamy compostrising side by sidewhere passion flower and muscat grapehave started their mid-spring chargealong the backyard fence,the kind of soilthat makes me singularly happyto be my own teeming massof dirt and moistureno less capableof breath and consciousness,than of sitting in a sunlit window,humming a thirteenth century balladand peeling an orangein one long spiral.For many Springs from now, my Love,we might just find a spadedriven into what was once our eyes,our tongues, our mouths—everythingwe ever were piled neatly into hillslike these we’ve enlivened through winterwith potato parings and banana peels,with cups of soured wine.Two young things just starting outwill spread us across a boxof weathered pine, pinning a gridof bright green masonry stringover what used to beyour brain and breasts, my heart and penis,their tiny square plotsforming a cityof earthen harmony,city of squash and green bean,city of spinach and pepper,city of tomato.15