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Tomato Seedlings, a poem by Nancy Pulley

Tomato Seedlings

When I loosen the tomato plants, each 

from the other, their roots are spider silk,

the hair of tiny Gods. My hands 

are clumsy strangers learning each year

how to touch the world, trying not to 

squeeze too hard, to pinch a stem

or lop a curled leaf. They lie

side by side, exude a pungent spirit. As I

tuck them into dirt, I breathe in childhood,

first love, secluded gardens— so much of this good life

floating through air at my fingertips.

Nancy Pulley’s poems have appeared in The Tipton Poetry Journal, the Indiannual, The Flying Island, Arts Indiana Literary Supplement, Passages North, Plainsong, The Sycamore Review, and the Humpback Barn Festival collection. In 1992 she won the Indiana Writer’s Center Poetry Chapbook contest, resulting in the publication of a chapbook, Tremolo of Light.