Fish Mint
Is a plant
Called Chameleon
And someone thinks
Smells like cat
Urine
It has strong
Roots
Extremely so
And it’s not enough
To pull the green part
Or the stem
Or the first clump
Of roots
You see
You have to go down deep
And find all the root
Pieces
Take them out of the ground
So that the only thing
Left in the earth
Is earth
This is the only way
To clear out the intrusive plant
And plant something
Kinder
And what of us
Except that when we have deep roots
Of things also intrusive without
Allowing
Other hale things in
Say
Fish mint roots as
The isms that invade
Try to take over
Racism
Classism
Misogynism
Ageism
That will kill a healthy thing
Such as a human spirit
That could grow
Into a
Viable
And sun-lit
Being
C L Couch
Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash
(x = space)
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x
Arborism
x
What will God tell us
To do good
x
Well, to do good
x
What if we’re feeling
Old and sick
x
And virtue
Seems too hard
x
After surgery and all
Or simply years
Of needing the investment
To get by
x
I don’t want excuses
Or to have them
Excused
I want resources
Energy
And time
x
Great things to consider
Though not so much when
We have them
We complain
We grow complacent
We choose bored
x
We all have something
For the whining
A tonic
Say
Say
Reality
Sometimes admittedly
A herculean lifting
Of a desert screen or
Something we believe
Might be on
Fire
To keep it there
Like Atlas with the world
Or the elephant upon
The wheel
Upon the turtle
x
Balancing
Then yes
With risk
Reaching under
That heavy
Skim
Detritus and illusion
To deal in the truth
To clear the roots
Spruce up
Our perception
Look at
What’s holding up
The holding up
And what is healthy
What needs
Pruning
What needs sliding off the top
For good
x
Maybe we leave the balance
Then
Clear roots
Above which
Sits our world
Our own
If there is something
x
A little easier
Or at least more visible
Atlas might not shrug so much
But smile
(the turtle, too)
x
C L Couch
x
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Photo by Clint McKoy on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Old
x
We get old
Forgetting we were young
No one would believe us
White hair
No hair
Everything takes longer
We wonder what to do with our day
An irony
On irony
We know more
Unless we gave that up
Stopping in our heads
Sometime ago
We could grow
We have things to say
Who wants to listen?
The gray become unseen
Unheard
x
C L Couch
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