Poetry: From the January/February 2007 issue | See all poetry
Seed Savers
Impossible to catalogue them all
because half are gone
the numbers of beans, speckled and mottled,
or how they’ve been carried, sacks
bags and barrels, more
numerous than earthstars,
the stone called “sheep’s nose,”
you lift them in your sleep. Scrounged
from grocery store’s split bags, slipped
between glass and damp
construction paper to watch them grow,
Jacob’s Cattle, Calypso, Pinto
against bright paper
send down their one question.
