What We Call Weeds

Poem written by Em Meuller, used with permission from the author

I hack the kudzo clogging
the dead Kharmann Ghia,
blossom of my honeymoon.

Now its paint and rusted belly
mingle with saplings and if I
mow I mow around the old
beauty

otherwise I paint a
sign with permanent
pens on an old
shingle

stake it into the ground:
Butterfly Garden.