Laura Jent

Laura Jent

The Renaming

Last autumn when I loved you,
I named you Falling Leaf for your
fly-away smiles, your shaken and ragged edges.
I named the wind How Unkind.

This summer no longer finds you flitting.  You reside
like a hearty garden vine, hold tomato court
between a row of cabbages and a plot of herbs.
I name the squirrels Nemesis and Nuisance,
and declare War daily.

One dawn is named Truce,
and I pick you early and place you
on a window sill named The Sunniest,
where you remain until you
shine a red that calls rubies Green,
and then I name you Ripe.

I name my hunger Greed, and eat you
over the kitchen sink. Your seeds stick
to my palms and cheeks; juice sneaks
down my neck—I name it Unabashed.

Later, I will name you Hit the Spot,
name the floor Sticky, open the window
and name the wind A Welcome Change,
claim all this with a stake and twine
and a hand-made identifying marker
stuck in the ground at your feet that says:
I name this plant Love.

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