It’s as if I’ve stumbled
across a sign—
a small plastic Jesus
tangible, here in my trowel
unearthed from the flower bed—
it’s as if I’ve resurrected
the savior.
We are made of memory, after all.
But I am muscle & flank
water & carbon.
Dirt under my fingernails.
I press bulbs into hard dark earth
my back bent to the digging—
my prayer we’ll survive till spring.
—
The poems of Anastasia Vassos have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Best New Poets. She is the author of Nostos (2023) and Nike Adjusting Her Sandal (2021). Find her work in RHINO, Whale Road Review, Thrush, Comstock Review, Lily Poetry Review, and elsewhere. Her poems about the Greek-American diaspora have been translated into Greek. She speaks three languages and rides her bicycle in Boston. The Atlantic is the ocean she loves best.
