Green House of the Sick Man

"Green House of the Sick Man" Imagining the lush, trickled and tickled By spray of light thoughts, my healing possibly To be that clover in full bloom again My body looked more like onion weed I wished for the irrigation from the botanist These thoughts, they want to crop up as He taps on both my knees, offering some advice "You won't sprout from your bed for a couple days. Don't forget ventilation, open those windows. " My cold frame was evidence I had not been taking my pesticides A fodder for other animals' discussions downstairs Not ready yet, but don't put me out to pasture for them It is my job to sell at the marketplace, rising to full radiance Though feelings of worry might crop up, wondering About my yield, I might yield, but never concede I coughed up less nutrients than yesterday Still an arable land I wish to be a legume And be with my friends again, all peas in a pod.