RHUBARB by Karen Leona Anderson

December 28, 2015


Unreciped, unlooked up
and sudden, in our yard, pieplant
as supper, leather-leaved stalk
with sugar dipped up to taste
from the old starred jar as if
no parent were there, as if
we weren’t, having
never planted the plant but
found it out back and odd
at the cut, thready-tipped
with dirt, but it’s done, at the point,
hot source, the sauce,
which should have been red
but is not, on toast, the deep
dry stalk surrendered
to heat and the sweet
made pulp, and we, deep


To read more poetry by Karn Leona Anderson, go to