9 July 2008 | Vol. 8, No. 2

Imaginary Greenhouse

by EMILY KENDAL FREY

Dear Jalapeno,

Dear Vagrant,

The trees are making

fools of themselves.

I'm making faces

at the greedy river.

The sky spits

at us in our tiny

white hats.

Dear Lawn,

Dear Miniature,

Dear Shuffle—

At least the dark

don't hide it.

Isn't that right,

Dear County Line?

We rub a place

in the canvas

and sit in it.

Dear Hands,

Such a beautiful

machine. It gleams.