plant

as far as
the eye can see
plant

till the soil
erupts
in green
tendrils
and fruiting
bodies

you till
my soil
as if it were
flesh

rip me
in two
tear out the
entrails
and make
sausage

then you plant
your seed
in my fine
and faulty
flesh

it may or may not
bestow
a progeny

but it
always
begets
a sweat

bittersweet
the desire
for companion

at times
such a violent
and hurtful dance

but the fruit
so sweet
and succulent

the farrow
doesn't mind
the weed.