Gardeners don’t like to talk about it,
but their work is death as much as life.
Yes, the favored plants are nourished,
a sprinkle of water and fertilizer,
a string lightly tied to a stick.
But other plants are poisoned or pulled,
hacked or hoed, the word “weed”
pinned to their coats like a sentence.
And that's fine; that's the way of this world.
Some books are alphabetized on the shelf;
others are boxed for Goodwill.
Some clothes return to their hangers,
others tossed in the discard carton.
Some friends are invited to the next party;
some numbers are never called again.
Even this poem, which began with so many words,
contains only a few lucky survivors,
the others scratched out with surprising fury.
but their work is death as much as life.
Yes, the favored plants are nourished,
a sprinkle of water and fertilizer,
a string lightly tied to a stick.
But other plants are poisoned or pulled,
hacked or hoed, the word “weed”
pinned to their coats like a sentence.
And that's fine; that's the way of this world.
Some books are alphabetized on the shelf;
others are boxed for Goodwill.
Some clothes return to their hangers,
others tossed in the discard carton.
Some friends are invited to the next party;
some numbers are never called again.
Even this poem, which began with so many words,
contains only a few lucky survivors,
the others scratched out with surprising fury.
Geoffrey Himes’s poetry has been published by December, Gianthology, the Delaware Poetry He has written about popular music and theater for the Washington Post, New York Times, Rolling Stone, Smithsonian Magazine, Paste, Downbeat, Sing Out and American Songwriter since 1977.