Reminded of Bigfoot
Sandra Fees
You can tell the weeds by their rapid-fire sprawl
cropping up overnight like suburbs, how a small void
offers them free rein, these masters of the art of long-term
survival. You can’t get rid of crabgrass, coltsfoot, wild
portulaca, or chickweed without a plan the way you can’t
get rid of plastic, old boyfriends, bad habits, vague posting,
complainers, chemicals, entanglements, snark, power
washers, catbirds, lawn ornaments, petty impulses,
the words moron and idiot, race-baiting, and ants that take
up too much space in your mind or kitchen and don’t know
when their welcome’s been worn out or that they’ve never
been welcome. Hairy, serrated, thistly, sure-footed, seldom
beautiful or delicate but some edible as with dandelion.
Grasping a fistful of shaggy galinsoga, I am reminded
of Bigfoot. Discovery Channel chases the mythical beast
the way I tug roots to release their hold. Disked and tiny
rayed florets look innocent enough, but already their sticky
seeds are designing the future. I fill a bag. Bees chase me
from flowering hostas and wild bergamot. It’s possible, I
think, to make some things go away.
Sandra Fees resides in Reading, Pennsylvania, and is Berks County’s Seventh Poet Laureate (2016-2019). In 2017, she had chapbooks published by Five Oaks Press and Finishing Line Press. Her recent work appears in Undocumented: Great Lakes Poets Laureate on Social Justice, Bards Against Hunger, Pennsylvania, The Aurorean, The Comstock Review, COUNTERCLOCK, and elsewhere.