Plot of Origin

If you were to ask me where I come from
I would say without hesitation it’s not a story of birds and bees,
mothers and fathers, even seeds and soil.
I come from the time before time, when the nascent elements
were chemical fire dust of minerals molecules
and love. This is the primal answer, the truth.

But today, for a more immediate frame of reference
I come from the garden,
where my tomatoes have been rendered inert;
dozens of ghostly green fruit frozen in time.
As gardener, midwife to the plants, I withdraw my shears
and begin cutting away the abundance of lush green foliage;
sacrificing the fragrant leaves and doomed yellow blossoms.
As I sever the tough, gristly stalks the iron sky drops rain
dappling my bare feet, my blades, my plants cut down in their prime.
And I see then it’s of no use, an insulating membrane of plastic;
my tomatoes are destined for an unconventional recipe.