Monthly Archives: July 2015

things that say “I don’t like you very much.”


Two pale, horrid squashes were left by my door
Crying “we’re few! but we’re going to be more!”
An unspoken, tacit, unneighborly threat:
If I leave my house, these two will beget

A surfeit of squashes, tinged with the pallor
Of death and decay, and hour after hour
More death shall be birthed upon prickly vine
And hundreds of stillborn plants shall be mine

Should I, in an incautious moment be caught
Off guard, or asleep, or somewhere that’s not
At home, by my door, with my shotgun in hand—
No more squashes! I hate them. You understand.