Amy Clampitt

Vacant Lot With Pokeweed

Tufts, follicles, grubstake
biennial rosettes, a low–
life beach-blond scruff of
couch grass: notwithstanding
the interglinting dregs
 
of wholesale upheaval and
dismemberment, weeds do not
hesitate, the wheeling
rise of the ailanthus halts
at nothing—and look! here’s
 
a pokeweed, sprung up from seed
dropped by some vagrant, that’s
seized a foothold: a magenta–
girdered bower, gazebo twirls
of blossom rounding into
 
raw-buttoned, garnet-rodded
fruit one more wayfarer
perhaps may salvage from
the season’s frittering,
the annual wreckage.
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