
Sara Lynn Eastler is an assistant poetry editor for Qu Literary Review and a freelance contributor to the Southern Review of Books. Her poetry has been published in Passengers Journal, Anodyne, Cajibi, and Lucky Jefferson. She lives in Midcoast Maine. You can find her at saralynneastler.com
We twine our lives around plants, like living vines —
a bean tendril that winds around the corn stalk,
a helix of English ivy that climbs the scaffold
of our brick dwellings and garden trellises
to feed the blackbird and thrush. We trim and curate.
We prune and repot. We water and feed. We breathe.
We hand pollinate the squash, cucumber, and okra,
brushing pollen sperm from anther tip to sticky
stigma. We watch the ovaries fatten and fruit
until we pluck and bite into. Juice and seed
run rivulets down our sticky chins. We harvest
the offspring to feed our own. We are all hungry
for sweetness and truth, we are all happy to slake
our thirst on the plants we stake to our garden beds.