Garden Duplex

You lay in a garden, laughing.
Green sprouts peek out of the ground.

New vegetation leaps out of the earth –
your sprinkled seeds bursting out in timelapse.

You lapse, bursting into plant confetti,
tumbling down on a surreal party.

You slipped into an actual party sober
because you didn’t believe in drinking.

These days you drink enough to believe in
humanity’s capacity to persist.

Persistence is human hope enabled.
You thrive in tandem with the planet.

The earth is alive in tandem with you,
lounging among gardenias, giggling.

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Sarah Peecher (she/her) is poet living and working in Chicago. She is a second-year Creative Writing MFA student at Columbia College Chicago and a Nathan Breitling Poetry Fellow. Her recent work appears in an anthology as part of her Dreams Come True Honorable Mention in Literature award from Santa Monica College. She also teaches introductory writing courses at Columbia College Chicago.