It must be Saturn pushing
Jupiter through the cornucopia of Capricorn
Here you say come here look at the garden

Sometimes I think you must be
An Impossible Being for it is not
possible for one woman to bring forth

What you bring forth: produce by the bushel full
Magical corn African squash leggy legumes
Plants whose names I do not know.  You flow

like a slither of silver snake through your horny
sign, plugging questionable stalks into stony
ground to restore the breath back to land

Caught in a choke hold.  I love to watch your hoe
Handle fly like a crow from the cherry tree
In your hand the handle will caw

And caw at all passing spirits to come
And give birth to the food for the people
who’ve run away for lesser things