Two Original Poems

By TB Jardinier

Quietly Growing


Over a decade ago

my childhood love and I

carved our initials in a birch tree

in their yard. That tree was later struck by lightning

and saplings now grow

in the dirt below.


As a child

I could not know

what love was supposed to be.

I thought it was like

getting struck by lightning.


There is a thunder storm this evening.

The birch saplings cast dappled shadows

on their porch.

An earnest painting of streetlight.

Naive late spring green

on a thunderous backdrop of purple.

Perfect pearlescent drops

cling to city wires

as spring plays its symphony

of patter

through the leaves.

I was twelve

the first time I fell in love.

I know now what I did not then,

that love is quietly growing.



The Dirt Between Rows


Two days ago,

On a cloudy morning

I drove to a strawberry field

To accept the sacrament of the summer goddess

On my knees.


The dirt between rows

And sun-ripe sweetness

Are sacred.


My arms were wet up to my elbows.

It had rained that morning.

A humid breeze pulled tufts of hair loose.

The sun was warm on the back of my neck.


My thighs still hurt.


I made strawberry shortcake

To bring in to work.

Plastic tupperware on a plastic table

Under light that cannot warm me.


It’s been three years since I’ve had a cigarette.

Today I had some in the summer rain.