Skip to content

I’ll Be Honest,

 

Weeds are meant to be pulled. Their wide, twine roots,
boxing everything else in. It all takes so little time, the
swarm, they take over. I struggle with the beautiful
ones, negotiate their responsibility, and end up pulling
them up anyway. Guts and roots. A brutal cycle. Like
us in a snow storm, all fear: cloth on white.

 

August 2014_Poem 5_I'll Be Honest

 

August 5, 2014, MLT

 

 

Published inBlogging & PoemsMy PoemsMy Writing Challenges

Be First to Comment

Leave a Reply