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      February 16, 2023Sweet PeasPatricia Crawford

      All along the back fence
      Tucked between the incinerator
      And the clothesline, hidden from view
      Meandered the prodigal sweet peas.
      Lassoed with chicken wire
      Climbing up and over the fence.
      Reaching through the smog filter
      To the sunshine.
      The whole fence was a wash of color
      A secret wall of delight.
      I wandered down the row,
      Woozy with their perfume
      Wishing I didn’t have to exhale
      Between inhales—just take
      All the swoony sweetness inside
      And keep it there.

      from Issue #7 - Summer 1997