Curb Appeal
March passed again,
and I did not trim back
the roses. They grow
lopsided and through
the porch railing,
prickly, blooming limbs
that brush the rocking
chairs. The lizards avoid
them, their heads periscopes
from ever-widening cracks
in the front porch. Paint
peels from railings I never
finished painting, and cats
watch it all from the living
room picture window.
Their noses streak the glass.
I understand the appeal
of curb appeal, but moved
here to avoid it. Now
Chip and Joanna Gaines
have infected the whole
neighborhood and Joe’s not
weird for obsessively
manicuring his rented lawn.
But I bet nobody else
on this block has volunteer
cucumbers maurading
the patch of garden they let
go wild this year. Isn’t that
a wonder: maurading
volunteer cucumbers!
10 thoughts on "Curb Appeal"
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Volunteer cucumbers are a wonder indeed, though marauding cucumbers has visions of Veggie Tales dancing in my head. LOL!
lol—if the cucumbers start singing about a missing hairbrush, I’ll try to get a video
Unique perspective! Like this poem!
Thanks! I’m glad you liked it
So many telling details — especially like the watching lizards and cats; there’s interest here in the haphazardness, the bounty.
Thanks for reading it 🙂
I love so many of these lines! Some of my favorites are “prickly, blooming limbs,” “their heads periscopes/ from ever-widening cracks,” and “I understand the appeal/of curb appeal, but moved/ here to avoid it.” The poem details nature in such inventive ways.
I’m glad you liked the periscope line because I was pretty proud of that one
loved this
Thank you so much!