I harvested Sister Bean Friday –
with the threat of frost Saturday.
She is mottled, purple on green.
Her seeds are shiny black with white eye.
Her smell is fecund.
Sister Bean speaks to as well as
feeds me saying
Let each breath be death and life.
Let each heartbeat unseat the thought that your blood is blue.
Let tears dilute your sweat and soften your glare.
I hold Sister Bean in my hand and
find that she weighs more than she does
because this bean preaches. I set her down
again, and then she calls to me at the last:
“You and I are not so very different.
We both begin and end in dirt.”