Photo by Mister B. on Unsplash
by Julianne Bond
Because it has grown wild and unacceptable, sharpen the garden knife along the stone wall and run your finger along the blade. Kneel before the oleander as the noonday sun reddens your shoulders, your blade song echoes in the vacant yard. A dandelion turns its lemon face to the sky as you slice its hairy rootlets. Toss the soft bits oozing milky white into a rusted pail. Hum while you do this. Make sure the weeds know you’ll return.
Julianne Bond writes poetry and prose. Published in journals such as Sport Literate and the anthology The Writers Studio at 30. She lives in NYC.
