Heirloom Rose

Heirloom variety with bright red blooms and a deep sweet scent
and thorns like stout hooked talons – you try to kill me
every time I get close. Ungrateful bitch,
even when you know I’m trying to help.

Like, trimming back the smoke tree the neighbors planted
right up against the fence line. You’d be smothered,
shaded to death, if I wasn’t handy with the pruning shears.

Or weed-eating around your brick ring. Though I suppose
you’ve no reason to care. You’re phytotoxic. Inside that ring
nothing grows but you.

I got sturdy leather gloves and long-handled clippers,
whacked out half your top growth while you growled and slashed.
I guess you could say it’s a mutually abusive relationship.
You came back in a stunning burst of bloom.

Books Available
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside