Groundskeeping
from 5-29-86 When I moved in I didn’t see the border of bleeding hearts encircling the yard rosy chambers leaking bloodless drops of white I lost her wild asparagus. I admit to letting him remove the horseradish though it would have pleased my daddy And the rhubarb fades turns woody before I notice But overall I respect her plantings dutifully crush lemon verbena and bring my fingers to my nose spice salads with bitter borage cherish the flowering garlic chives harvest an overgrowth of raspberries at the property line My carrots, radishes and vining cucumbers flourish in the bed she made Lake iris clump outside the corner of my kitchen come singly to stand over quiet dinners My neighbor’s granddaughter leaned over the fence outlined in three varieties of mint to tell me everyone said she was crazy This too I resp
