by Laurie Block
The taste of sin is mint
on his lips the perrenial curse
our father caught in the act
embraced the tree's green gospel
turned virtue into a backyard plot
spring floods his bed
blossoms chatter
on the verge of stone dandelions
his annual argument with chaos
the stubborn seed
immune to poison and prayer
he'll stake his tomatoes against the sun
flowers nothing but trouble
iris open to pleasure
the standing offer of geraniums
bleeding heart he planted
under the new moon
in the name of perfection he wrote
the catalogue anticipating plenty
bush beefsteak northern spies
sunny boy
sees him through winter
on his knees
in darkness in drifts
the promise melts in his mouth
with the first taste of frost
the garden gives evidence
against the picket of ribs tongue testifies
naked and rebellious the heart yields
bruised fruit