It was something I heard somewhere
and never questioned, that the vine was sent
to consume us, invasive perennial sprawling
its varicose veins across America before it spread
to choke the whole blue marble. At the time
I thought that sounded scary. I imagined myself
trapped in a dark room, damp roots constricting
wrist and windpipe. Now I think, Please,
let it be kudzu. Let the vine that ate the South
be the only war this planet knows, let it take hold
of ankle and AK-47, bury them under leaf and root,
trellis the earth in a great green blanket,
the whole world a soft place to land.