Vegetable X

by ANNA LAURA REEVE

     Garlic leaves stand in a grid satisfying   as lattice-top pie
                  Nothing in my life    stays where  I put it  like these
 A hard tug  leaves green juice   on the hand—         
       broad roots  cling  to soil      like a hank of hair     to scalp             
  Unbrowsed by deer             beetle            or   rabbit                   Yes,
hallelujah                                I say it before Easter,       I say it
  when I want                                       I say it    to the volatile sulfur
compounds   addressing   the olfactory                                 eliciting   
 a moan       who then with a sly smile, split clove open   & glistening
say       wanna do it again?                    Garlic   you    delicious  slut
   I grow you    to lick        your lovely             clit                   I come 
         out to watch you          grow your sprouts         in  December
    your thick shaft                              in March             your sixth leaf
      in April      your juice running in May,   & in June  I pull one  
 plant    to see your pink wrappers drying &   tattered                I peel
   a pale bulb    with my thumb                            each  small  mound
  tumescent                alive                  arcing                   with  pleasure