Saturday in CinCity

His Wife

by Andrew Hudgins

My wife is not afraid of dirt.
She spends each morning gardening,
stooped over, watering, pulling weeds,
removing insects from her plants
and pinching them until they burst.
She won't grow marigolds or hollyhocks,
just onions, eggplants, peppers, peas –
things we can eat. And while she sweats
I'm working on my poetry and flute.
Then growing tired of all that art,
I've strolled out to the garden plot
and seen her pull a tomato from the vine
and bite into the unwashed fruit
like a soft, hot apple in her hand.
The juice streams down her dirty chin
and tiny seeds stick to her lips.
Her eye is clear, her body full of light,
and when, at night, I hold her close,
she smells of mint and lemon balm.


  1. True love, indeed, and an inspiration for his art. Beautiful!

  2. "Her body full of light"...

    Some people are truly luminous... guess she is one of them. A beautiful piece, deceptively simple...

  3. Oh DBSO, I wish I could garden. It's on my list of things to accomplish. See my 'to do' list! Ground cover under magnolia tree, footpath solution (gravel?), raised bed viewed from deck. I like the concept, but not the hard 'yakka'!


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