after Ross Gay
For
me it’s the bouquet
of
over-the top, dinner plate
dahlias
versus tulips,
a
flakey bite of thick apple pie,
not
the canned sauce. The old plum
finally
bears fruit again after
years
of hack. Lovage
overwhelms
the herb bed,
new
strawberry plantlets
creep
over the edge,
cling
to the weed cloth,
find
fresh terrain for their tiny roots.
The
brazen rhubarb always
takes
up more space than she
is
allotted and I love,
in
the early spring, how she
unfurls
her grand green body
and
simply does not care.
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Jessica Gigot is a poet, farmer, and coach. She lives on a little sheep farm in the Skagit Valley. Her second book of poems, Feeding Hour (Wandering Aengus Press, 2020), won a Nautilus Award and was a finalist for the 2021 Washington State Book Award. Jessica’s writing and reviews appear in several publications, such as Orion, The New York Times, The Seattle Times, Ecotone, Terrain.org, Gastronomica, Crab Creek Review, and Poetry Northwest. She is currently a poetry editor for The Hopper. Her memoir, A Little Bit of Land, was published by Oregon State University Press in September 2022.
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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