Tomato Heaven, Brooklyn
Grow a set of true leaves. Get hardened off. As hardy a transplant as possible. Blossom and rot. They like bottom heat. But, seriously, how much do they need to be petted. Don’t allow other people to smoke in your garden.
Privilege of Imagination
Today, they hit all the hospitals. Scattered showers. The surge after surgery. Understanding methods of escape. A minaret. A rocket. To be induced. Clay and rock the same color. I am inside this thunder. Wear white in the storm.
Birds of
After Joseph Cornell For Christine Cummings Let’s visit with that quince tree in Queens. The black cut out is a classic maneuver. The only box in the series. Feature a human figure once. We saw so many of the same things. Separated shadow. That bird in the zoo I befriended. Bangle amusement. Your strawberries. Your blurred self-portrait. I saw a cloud with the same feather crown.
Jenna Cardinale is the author of a chapbook, A California (DGP, 2017). Some of her poems appear in The Equalizer, Pith, Verse Daily, and SAND. She lives in Brooklyn, NY.
