- From a Greenhouse
That warming smell inside of plasticis here before the flowers grow.This blurry skin, rib-wrapped, lastedall winter melting off the snow.It’s about time to start the jobof placing seed, each tracked by date,to fill demand. This man-made placegets hot enough to kill in summer.Customers don’t care how muchit costs—they’re happy for the color.Sometimes, it’s what the dead last chose.Once the frosts are gone, we tillthe ground then plant the starter rowsfor whoever is, and isn’t, well. [End Page 70]
KEVIN O’SHEA holds an MFA in poetry from Western Colorado State University. He lives in New Jersey.