To Plant a Lupine at Twilight in the Company of the Earthworm a Georgic poem I Dig down into the dark naked hands embedded let your fingers make the hole wide and full, give berth to roots; let them wind and spread a tangle of hair lined ropes— II Lumbricina—slime and moisture, slither smoothly on their belly rough with setae that bristle, protect, move them— Do not interrupt their rounds. III Gently, firmly envelop the tender seedlings of Lupinus which you have brought to this moment micro-bonnets folded, clusters of purple velvet— Sweep in the earth. Wait with the patience of the trees for full flowering— You have planted immortality.
Ruth Chad is a psychologist who lives and works in the Boston area. Her poems have appeared in the Aurorean, Bagels with the Bards, Connection, Psychoanalytic Couple and Family Institute of New England, Constellations, Ibbetson Street, Montreal Poems, Muddy River Poetry Review, Lily Poetry Review and several others. Her chapbook, The Sound of Angels was published by Cervena Barva Press in 2017.
Amethyst Review 