ANTICIPATION by Ada Limon

Before I dug 
the plot 
in our yard 
before we had 
a yard, when 
grass only grew 
between stop 
signs and garbage 
cans, when I 
had one pot 
for a pepper 
And one pot 
for a roma
on the fire 
escape, I was 
planting my 
secret seeds 
inside you 
the crimson 
linen curtains 
billowing in 
liquid spring 
wind, the future
deepening 
in the heat.