Earlier version of poem first published in We Don’t Break, We Burn by Mindwell Poetry Press and edited by Zachary Kluckman

Mosaic of pots paint a garden
tomatoes struggle to stretch fingers
herbs barely bubble out dirt
too scared, bland afternoon sun
old man spinach sneers
watches shadows yawn across ground

But onions, oh those damned onions
crowd like matryoshka dolls

Wants to be flavor on tacos
or bite on smoked turkey sandwiches

Only planted life capable
standing up to this pungent world