^,^
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Morticulture
Gourd vines unfurl on the trellis
So fast now that a pulse is nearly felt
at the growth tips
Little buds that will be flowers
emerge from nothing
Up the wire mesh go the vines
a rung or two at a time
and the tendrils wave
and writhe in air
seeking purchase
Wire to bend
Finding something to grab onto
they kink up
in tight spirals
like octopus tentacles
Twelve plants started from seed
in my south window sill indoors
fragile they were and now
They have enough
collective force to produce
a bin of future horns, rattles
bowls and dippers
or to make good on a sci-fi
nightmare
and do me in
I will not turn my back on them
At night through the open
bedroom window I hear them
growing
muscling their way toward me
I could have stopped them once
but now they have
harnessed the sun
and they want to grow
all over me
I have to make a run past
this trellis in the morning
when I go to work
They might snatch an arm or pantleg
but I close the door on
the offending tentacles
and back down the drive
a struggle between an auto
engine and photosynthesis
So far the car always wins
and the tendril ends whimper
when their connexions to the mother vine
break
and come bungeeing back
at the windshield
Neighbor's pets
have begun to disappear
The vines have
a way
of beckoning innocently
like a benign cobra
You have to stare at them
and you want
to move in for a closer look
because you are curious
aren't you?
Don't
[ãDavid Zep Dix 2001]
