Acacia greggi

Devil's claw

Sarah Kortemeier

 

 

He planted the devil's claw

for our first-year anniversary.

 

He planted it with beans

and an indigo seedling.

 

Together they sucked up all the water

in the bed. The toddler

 

habanero had no chance. Neither

did the rosemary, which died

 

in a week of days so hot

we gave up, temporarily, and became

 

secretaries of ourselves. I can't sleep.

Neither can I. The anniversary

 

went. I gave him a knife. He sawed

the bhut jolokia down again to let

 

the leaves come out. He doesn't know

how he will use the indigo.

 

The devil's claw is also called the wait-a-minute

tree.

 

He learns names. He promises

me stops by the side of the path. He promises

 

me collections of things made, things grown, he finally

made the compost work this year, all those scraps

 

and small deaths, all those discarded outer rinds,

combining to richness in a bucket

 

the way they're supposed to do.

 

 

~~~~~

Sarah Kortemeier holds an MFA from the University of Arizona; she currently serves as a library assistant at the University of Arizona Poetry Center. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Ploughshares and Folio, and she was a finalist in the second annual Tennessee Williams Festival Poetry Contest. She lives in Tucson.