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Tree grafting notes

by ag

After the tools have been sterilized,

the patch cut and grafted, it sleeps for a year: a spring,

summer, fall and winter

of dormant green piece of orange tree.

That second spring, something has stirred

behind the cell walls of the patch graft

and if you look (rocklike, plantlike, long and slow)

you can watch:

a spindly spider’s leg of plant

creeps its way into life

and sprouts knobbly buds, which flower and fruit,

and suddenly the cedar is an orange.

So you pick the orange

and think about change.

The key is patience. My tree graft instructor

got tired of waiting and cut the donor branch

too early, then lamented: this is not how

these things should be done.

I’ll stay a little longer

under these soft blankets.

It’s early spring,

and my surgical drains are still in.


Ag (he/him/his) is a librarian from Baltimore. His work has appeared in Variety Pack. He can be found on Twitter at @agfrombaltimore


Image by Bree Anne
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