Stephen Pettinga has been active in poetry communities in Chicago, Austin and Iowa City, where he received his Bachelor of Arts. He enjoys book-reading, bookselling, bookmaking, book design and witnessing the lives of plants. He currently works for the University of Chicago Press and is currently preoccupied with the roses busting out on his porch in Hyde Park.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
STRIPED ROME, PURPLE CHEROKEE

In over your head in nightshade musk
you toss the soft fruit, sloppy
in its bag of skin. Arcing into the wider world,
it twirls out amniotic soup simmered
on the vine. The worm you crush
between thumb and forefinger is the green
of spring oats, even with its insides
out. Face to the furrow you find
the fattest jewel of summer, sun-
hidden and unsplit, worth wearing
on your chin. Flies all sizes
lie down at the sweet invitation
of what you pass over,
of what you leave rot.