By M.E. Hope
The aspen are sexing out
it is near spring, (days away from one snow,
days until the next) they are adorned
with gray catkins, slick in the morning fog
messy with possibility.
In the seemingly dormant garden
rhubarb leaves begin their journey:
tight, round and red, intrusive penis
heads breaking the soil. The demure
gardener best glance away.
And look, the peony’s long scarlet
stem, the delicate neck which will hold
the great flower is reaching skyward, soliciting
the sun, offering up possibilities for some warmth.
M.E. Hope is an ex-pat who fell off the wagon and is suddenly back in Europe, (Belgium this time) after eleven years in Oregon where she dabbled in organizing poetry (and pie) events, received a writing residency at Playa (http://www.playasummerlake.org/), and garnered a 2013 Individual Artist Fellowship from the Oregon Arts Commission.