Poetry by Juleigh Howard-Hobson: The Art of Crushing Souls
The Art of Crushing Souls
My mother, who is over 80 now,
Still throws seeds in any sour patch of
Ground or stale potting soil left over
From some one else’s garage sale. It’s how
She’s always done it. Thinks that it’s enough
To have some crappy dirt and some water.
Then she is always disappointed, always
Comparing the stunted nutrient starved
Things she ‘grows’ with everyone else’s on
The planet. It’s not her fault though, she says,
It’s the plant’s fault, the weather’s fault, it’s hard
To grow anything in a garden
That’s not exactly perfect. She’s not to blame.
Never her fault. She parented the same.
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