i came, i saw

by Alexis Marie

i’ve never been good at gardening.
placing carrot seeds in
the back yard of my mother’s house –
(i was six years old and)
they never grew.

if you didn’t notice yet,
that’s a metaphor,
an alliteration for
(…ah, fuck,)
– i’m no good at this.

(i’m no good at this…)
and slow and steady toils
resulting in abundances of
accomplishments –

(what’s the saying,
….’carpe diem’?)

“close but no cigar,”

– german teacher said,
these things to me (i.e. third grade):
the most prominent lesson
from grade school (i can remember.)

for my carpe diem
misses its mark by a yard,
(….’veni, vidi, vici’? -)
i come, i see, but i can’t conquer.

so i’m not sure how to yield this,
(how to tend to you,)
until your love overflows for me,
(when poured into the palms of our hands)

– you’re not a flower,
(and if you were, by my
green thumb,
you’d have withered.)

perhaps the public library
(carpenter branch) has

gardening for dummies (101);

(despite all my freudian slips and awkward flailings,)

i really do want to tend to
the seeds you’ve given me.