Green Thumb, Black Heart by Lynne Sargent
Green Thumb, Black Heart
by Lynne Sargent
Published September 16, 2022
My mother might as well be Demeter:
green thumbs, garden blooming
lavender and mint
all Canadian-winter round.
She gives me dirt,
and still I can only preserve
those things that are made for drought
like I am death after her life
but Hades himself.
My grandfather grows bonsais
lovingly trimmed and cared for.
He gave me a miniature pomegranate
for my sixteenth birthday;
before I could ever
transgress and eat it.
Some days it feels like I am buried
too deep under rocks to sprout myself,
let alone coax anything else
like I can only be the afterlife,
hands too weak to keep out winter,
let alone dig in the frozen ground,
like I am too hungry
to possibly wait for fruit to grow.
Lynne Sargent is a writer, aerialist, and holds a Ph.D in Applied Philosophy. They are the poetry editor at Utopia Science Fiction magazine. Their work has been nominated for Rhysling, Elgin, and Aurora Awards, and has appeared in venues such as Augur Magazine, Strange Horizons, and Daily Science Fiction. Their first collection, A Refuge of Tales is out now from Renaissance Press. To find out more, reach out to them on Twitter @SamLynneS or for a complete bibliography visit them at scribbledshadows.wordpress.com.