growing season

we were taught to be needed. i was only a girl
when i learned to wear my heart outside my body
& peel it like a clementine should the need arise.
come may we offered our braids to the allium
to listen for trouble, backs braced to spring wind,
sitting in circles, knee to knee, crowns pulled
to the center, woven into the earth to protect
each pungent bulb. our mothers sliced oranges
into smiles to keep us well & willing.

they called us mothers too & for this we laid low
with our eyes to the ground, opened our mouths
into dirt & prayed for the chance to be useful.
though i never did i longed to wear yarrow
in my teeth & ride an old mule through a canyon,
sit up straight beneath an elm’s shade, learn to love
my own shadow. i was hungry too, to be eaten
whole if it meant i was just right. the season came
to cut my hair & make another mother. i stole
my heart into my throat & made myself a king.