Skip to content →

Coda: Late March beneath the earth

fanged root begins to snake—

in three sharp thrusts

I rout out a stub

toss it on a dry heap of yellow sticks

somewhat weakened

Once ravenous

in the bed

my arms crept up hung from the iron

frame Pull me out

I cried

to no one my husband gone where he was

my family melting away

and I

attached as a root to blight

or to what is

invasive O honeysuckle

O pretty and sweet

The hollow stems crowding out

light O soundless plague of the forest

Imagine somebody whispers

stopping that cycle imagine you

being the one

I lay abed my spikes softening unwitnessed

mouth adrift missing

a petal

Heave out each inch of bindweed

and what is left A hole

too vast to be a hole

god-gutted space within the earth

nothing to push against impossible

to envision There what could be living

I go into the kitchen for water I await my friend

who has for years worked

his family garden

He who is kind

regards the root and starts

to dig—

from Pretty TripwireFind more by Alessandra Lynch at the library

Copyright © 2021 Alessandra Lynch
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Alice James Books.

Published in Alessandra Lynch Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.