TANGLES
The day I came home
to find my husband
waiting on the porch
for his ride an hour
and a half early
and on the wrong day,
I knew then I had
to take on the ivy
spread over most
of the yard.
Here’s what I love
about ivy.
It’s relentless,
doesn’t forget
or remember,
creeps, burrows
under soil,
through leaves
and weeds,
starts south, turns
north leaving little
trace of its path until
you grip its wily
tangled trailhead
and yank—oh
the glorious rip
that strips its long,
ropey vine.
No grief,
no remorse,
no tug of heart.
—from Rattle #61, Fall 2018
__________
Barbara Campbell: “I have been writing poetry for years as it makes me make some sense out of our increasingly crazy world. I especially like submitting to Rattle because the rejection letters make you think that Tim Green really likes your stuff and that due to circumstances out of his control, he can’t, this time, accept your poems. I even wrote a poem about this but can’t hazard a final rejection.”
