Winter Promises in  General   

Tomatoes rosy as perfect baby's buttocks,
eggplants glossy as waxed fenders,
purple neon flawless glistening
peppers, pole beans fecund and fast
growing as Jack's Viagra-sped stalk,
big as truck tire zinnias that mildew
will never wilt, roses weighing down
a bush never touched by black spot,
brave little fruit trees shouldering up
their spotless ornaments of glass fruit:

I lie on the couch under a blanket
of seed catalogs ordering far
too much. Sleet slides down
the windows, a wind edged
with ice knifes through every crack.
Lie to me, sweet garden-mongers:
I want to believe every promise,
to trust in five pound tomatoes
and dahlias brighter than the sun
that was eaten by frost last week.

By Marge Piercy

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Other poems by Marge Piercy:

• A Work Of Artifice
• Always Unsuitable
• Attack of the Squash People
• Barbie Doll
• Belly Good
• Colors Passing Through Us
• For the Young Who Want To
• Implications of One Plus One
• The Friend
• The Morning Half-Life Blues
• The Neighbor
• The Seven Of Pentacles
• The Woman in the Ordinary
• To Be of Use
• To the Pay Toilet
• Toad Dreams
• Traveling Dream
• Visiting a Dead Man on a Summer Day
• What Are Big Girls Made Of?
• Winter Promises
• You Ask Why Sometimes I Say Stop