Invasive
O you honeysuckle
crown of the branch
such a delicate flower.
How you clutch tight
small maples. To choke,
that very simple power.
Their smooth trunks bulge
like the eyes of skinny
frogs. Death is your canopy.
Gloved, my fingers flit at
the paper feathers that
hide a matchstick brand.
The deep ruts of growth
clutch and tug gently firm.
Unwound quietly by hand.
A quiet dappled thicket
of slow perfect slaughter.
Time turns a slow spiral.
O honeysuckle, sweet
is the sound of your long root
tearing from the ground.
11 thoughts on "Invasive"
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cloying overtakers..
nice work here.
I like how you begin and end with the O honeysuckle. Several beautiful places in the poem. The last to verses are especially great. Such a lovely poem for a plant you dislike!
Whoops. I meant last “two” verse. I wish I knew how to use the correction function.
Dang that last stanza is BRUTAL. You are wicked to my beloved honeysuckle 😉
I really like how you juxtapose the impression most people have of honeysuckle being a sweet plant with it’s invasive nature. Loved it!
The sound of the poem is such a love song – and in contrast to the content- powerful. Love it!
For the first time, the poem made me aware of the irony of the plant’s name. Come to think of it, vines have long roots, too, and invade.
Power to power here—a sense of drama unfolds as first you honor the honeysuckle—before tearing it from the ground. Loved reading this poem!
It starts so gently then by the end I could hear it ripping out of the ground!
I love that I’ve seen the progress of this piece. Such a privilege.
Gloved, my fingers flit at
the paper feathers that
hide a matchstick brand.
and
Death is your canopy.
Adore those two bits of phrase.
You read like a horticultural madman in verse, and I love it.
Yeah. That one line was neat. Elevating death into the position of overstory really worked and inverting the sentence gave it more punch.