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More poems by Theodore RoethkeTheodore Roethke | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Theodore RoethkeBooks by Theodore Roethke

Root Cellar

Theodore Roethke

Nothing would sleep in that cellar, dank as a ditch,
Bulbs broke out of boxes hunting for chinks in the dark,
Shoots dangled and drooped,
Lolling obscenely from mildewed crates,
Hung down long yellow evil necks, like tropical snakes.
And what a congress of stinks!
Roots ripe as old bait,
Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich,
Leaf-mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks.
Nothing would give up life:
Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.


Submitted by Emily

Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 22 Nov 2017 12:38 AM | Viewed: 21547 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/8952/ | Viewed on 21 November 2017.
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