HAROLD GROWS CRESS

Erin Murphy

I wanted to grow something
– But not flowers. I’d need soil,
Which I could dig
Up from the park
– But city soil is filthy,
I won’t have it in my flat.
 
I remembered growing cress
Years ago in Primary,
Sowed on tissue.
Just a tissue.
Those seeds weren’t weaklings. Tough-Love
And neglect nourished them well.
 
So cress it would be. My joy
Was as short-lived as the cress,
Its growth paltry
And uneven.
I ate the shoots; half-grown strings.
I don’t tolerate failures.
 
Not anymore.