Weeds
By Lisa Selvaggio
We are the ultimate invasive species, plowing through the land in our big trucks as we tear down the trees and flatten mountains, wildlife be damned, they don't exist in our minds, then take animals captive slaves along the way. We suffocate and spread like weeds and refuse to go even when forces try to push us away. The waters come in hard and the wind sweeps over the land in tunnels in an effort to wipe away our pollution, but still we persist, rebuild, maintain, refuse to change. The weeds thrive even though you pluck them out. The roots are strong and stubborn. And the forests no longer run deep; there's always a city waiting on the other side, as they lasso the sun and drag it down from the clouds that are no longer real.