We plant the sprouted onion
by Christy Lee Barnes
because my toddler
has plucked it from the compost bin
in a fit of love.
He holds it high above his head,
screaming IT GROWS!!
Such a happy scream,
the way he screams
nearly everything these days.
This shock of green shoots
bursts through
reddish papery layers,
a triumph.
We pull out
an old pot, pour dirt in.
He pats it down
with such great tenderness.
I set it beside the kitchen sink,
reminder
of all that might bloom if we let it.
has plucked it from the compost bin
in a fit of love.
He holds it high above his head,
screaming IT GROWS!!
Such a happy scream,
the way he screams
nearly everything these days.
This shock of green shoots
bursts through
reddish papery layers,
a triumph.
We pull out
an old pot, pour dirt in.
He pats it down
with such great tenderness.
I set it beside the kitchen sink,
reminder
of all that might bloom if we let it.
Christy Lee Barnes is an educator originally from Los Angeles, now living in Seattle with her husband and toddler son. Her writing can be found in Prairie Schooner, Plume, Cream City Review, MER, Cagibi, Spillway, Tin House's "Broadside Thirty," The Seattle Times, McSweeney's, and elsewhere.