I didn’t choose the Plum trees.
That first year they didn’t have the sense
to not bear fruit. We didn’t have the sense to feel blessed.
How we picked each plum
prematurely in hope of
keeping everything in order according to plan.
Such attention to detail. It must be
baby proof and pet proof. It must be
safe. It must not be more
than we can handle. I thought
the new yard would change us. It would give
us a hobby. Lead to a backyard wedding.
When the landscapers finished,
the dry riverbed looked like the Immaculate Heart.
It was the envy of the neighbors.
Angela M. Brommel is a Nevada writer with Iowa roots. Her poetry has been published in The North American Review, Helen, 300 Days of Sun, The Citron Review, Now Culture, Vapid Kitten, and All of Us: Sweet: The First Five Years. She is the Director of Arts & Culture and a part-time faculty member at Nevada State College. You can also find her at The Citron Review as Managing Editor and Poetry Editor.