Brian Baumgart
My Songs [Sonnets] for Terrorists #42
the deer can smell my garden from a mile away; this,
I’m convinced, is an absolute truth—the flowers, the fruits,
the weight of each zucchini pulling the hollow stems
into earth as if to return them to the source of nutrients. the deer
know this, I’m so sure, because they’ll quiver in the country
roads, nose atwitter, and patter—quick then slow, quick then slow—
to push aside my gate, to stamp legs into the fencing until it drops,
to find the weak spots and enter, unbidden, undesired, despite
the beauty of their bodies, lithe and muscular, at the fine edge of perfect;
and I tell you this to show you the beauty of my garden,
each green stem and feathered tomato leaf, to let you know
even if you push my fence so low you can step one foot, then another,
into the planted earth, you can still be beautiful, at the edge of perfect,
and I won’t be angry if you leave just a little for the rest of us
​​​​​​BIO
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Brian Baumgart (he/him) is the author of the poetry collection Rules for Loving Right (Sweet, 2017), and his poetry has appeared in a number of journals, including South Dakota Review, Spillway, Whale Road Review, and has been nominated for both the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net awards. Brian is an English professor and previously served as the Director of Creative Writing at North Hennepin Community College. He was Artist-in-Residence at University of Minnesota’s Cedar Creek Ecological Science Reserve and co-coordinated the Minnesota State Write Like Us Program. He is the father of two teenagers, both of whom are absolutely ridiculous and terrifying.
For more: https://briandbaumgart.wixsite.com/website.