Root Suckers

I’ve been trying to write a poem

for months

now

all my words are

lazy

Do you want to hear about my recovery?

or maybe the

addiction

part

how I took boxes out of my bedroom

sorting through the detritus

every card a reminder

of a

certain

kind

of

loss

He told me

get rid of it all

now

so the next time

you won’t have to

hurt

like this

but I didn’t listen

No I didn’t

emotional masochist

with trash

for a bucket

list

at 85

I want to remember

all the pain

like it was yesterday

riding the storm

the figurehead of this

ship

tits out

cannon

balls

blazing

at my birth

the sailors

marked

the map

red x

the invention of the ship

is the invention

of the

ship

wreck

on land

all the trees

on my property

died

and from the ground

shot up

root

suckers

punching toward

daylight

asking for a drink of

life

the root systems

final

call

a trauma response

I need to

kill

it’s

killing

my curb

appeal

I used to be appealing

I curbed

my need

for the

killing

when I spray these

little saplings

so that they do not have time to form

larger root systems

and become one

with me

I will mourn them

painting death

onto the tips of the

plant

cutting off its air

supply

we are all

thirsty