We grow best as prairies.
Integrated tangles that pull community
in every direction.
Competing for the sun’s gold, yes,
but under the surface we enrich
the soil, planting the next season’s seeds.
You think we consume without thought.
You plow us into segregated rows,
tell us to rely on synthetic wards
while your mice in trousers rob our grain,
and think our faces will always turn to you
as if you were the center of the universe.
We are watching you
and weighing judgement.
We may lack coordination
but our tender shoots grow
inexorably
inescapably
in their masses
along your length
around your cruel mouth
toward your delicate eyes,
until you blink.