POETRY
There Will Be An Orchard/I Throw Fruit Into the Gully
Kai Coggin

Image © Mike Kenneally

Image © Mike Kenneally

I throw fruit into the gully, 
when the oranges and apples
start to decay in the fruit bowl
of unintentional neglect,
I gather into my arms the
glorious seed
bombs
and I open the back door
that faces the gully,
the gully past the tulip patch,
the earth crevice for passing rainwater spillage,
the ignored river-let that leads to the stream, to the dream
that one day an orchard of mixed fruit will flourish.

I throw fruit into the gully,
over the past year or so,
one by one,
I lob the rotting produce
arcing colorful ovules of fruit
into the mouth of this green ravine, 
the leftover 4th of July watermelon, 
the jack-o-lantern whose smile
became a wilted frown,
a bundle of grapes,
black bananas,
anything that may decompose
and bury its seeds into the fertile earth
and occasional rainwater cascade.

I throw fruit into the gully,
some call this exercise fruitless, futile.
Now, I know I could plant the seeds,
carefully plot the land, and stand in the spaces
where the sun shines her full face,
but this is a gamble,
like putting it all on red,
like throwing pennies in a wishing well
and expecting that wish to become truth,
like wishing on a star
and waiting for it to flicker back
I hear you.

I throw fruit into the gully
because I have a bushel
of waiting tucked under my arm,
an abundance of hope collected in decay, 
wishing these seeds into trees,
wishing these trees into an assorted orchard, 
a motley bloom of cast out sprouts
becoming a majestic grove of

“why, yes this apple tree IS from the fruit I threw into the gully.”

I throw fruit into the gully,
and yesterday,
walking down toward the lake,
at the end of the rainwater crevice
that reaches the stream,
where a pool of rich wet soil
has become a puddle of possibility, there,
in all of it’s accidental glory,
a watermelon seed
is reaching
its tiny green arms
up out of the soil,
and becoming a miracle.


Kai Coggin is a poet, author, and teaching artist living on the side of a small mountain in Hot Springs National Park, AR. She holds a BA in Poetry and Creative Writing from Texas A&M University. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Blue Heron Review, Lavender Review, Broad!, The Tattooed Buddha, Split This Rock, Yellow Chair Review, ANIMA, Elephant Journal, and many other literary journals, as well as anthologized in several international collections. Her first full-length collection PERISCOPE HEART (Swimming with Elephants Publications 2014) is available at kaicoggin.com.