____WILD____

_ _ _ _ FLOWERS

grandpa’s garden wore a belt with suspenders

                          like him

flowers meant to be straight and white

and kept in line

                          like family

careful cuttings placed just so

curated, to keep up just the right appearances

                         like us

in rich but shallow loam

no weeds allowed

                         like me

only the controlled and cultivated

domesticated creatures tied to stakes

                         planned and potted

and governed by the rod

regimented soldiers in a manicured Arlington

                          buried by his own hand

garden variety fascism, always well-intentioned

But look to the shade

                         where I exist

to what grows up on the margins

popping up without permission

                         dirty, unapologetic

standing there at the foot of the bed

swaying there in the shadows

                         perennial, resistant, shameless 

my seed carried by wind and wing

and watered in trickle-down undergrounds

                         cracks in his plans

not sheltering in store-bought soils

for grandpa and his garden are all but forgotten

                         nothing but dust

now I am no dirtier than you

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Published by Synkroniciti Magazine Vol. 5, No. 1, Katherine McDaniel, editor