Today's poem is by Sarah Hannah
Tread-softly (Cnidoscolus stimulosus)
Hell, this is a field without end,
Wider than a gate, athrum with
Insect wing and Squawk. I might as well
Go swim in flame, but I can't swim,
So I'll just walk: bramble, spike,
And blame, without a single quenching
Drop of dew. Not a fielda ravine
I mean a raving: You. And I'm
On double shift: daughter, nurse,
In double oxymoron: home hospice.
Some have said it's not worth saving,
This tiny family of Spurge: we two.
The hooks go in, the rash is swift, and
There's no poultice, only spur and spurned.
Even the milk sap burns. I've the urge to turn
And quit, but there's simply no one else to do it;
No one could or wouldtread softly, that is
Open the hand, toss the shoes and step back in,
Knowing what I know.
Copyright © 2007 Sarah Hannah All rights reserved
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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