GloPoWriMo: Day 7



The Gardener walked with the Breath
along the path between
the back fence
and the prickly pears.

The stalk of a century plant
stretched above them.
“It’s blooming,” said the Gardener.
The Breath exhaled.

“Too bad plants don’t breathe,”
said the Gardener.
“Oh, but they do,”
said the Breath,
“through stomata.”

They walked
under the songs
of mockingbirds.

The footsteps of
a black cactus longhorn beetle
among the fallen
pads of the prickly pear.

“Beetles breathe
through spiracles,”
said the Breath,
before the Gardener
had a chance to ask.

The crossvine
bloomed, too.

They picked
snow peas
for lunch.

“It might be the last
harvest of the season,”
said the Gardener,
tying a straggling
vine to the trellis.
The Breath

“What will you do,
when I am no more?”
asked the Gardener.

“Move on,”
came the reply.

Daily Prompt: Write “out a list of all of your different layers of identity… These are all ways you could be described or lenses you could be viewed through. Now divide all of those things into lists of what makes you feel powerful and what makes you feel vulnerable. Now write a poem in which one of the identities from the first list contends or talks with an identity from the second list,” from the Na/GloPoWriMo site.

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