Pot Bound

My outgrown tangled roots
are bound for a bigger pot

Tradition states my choice…
and it’s two sizes too small
as they say
so the moment I’d settled
my roots had already grown out
left most untidily tangled

To be frank, I’m tired
after two times too many plantings
my leaves droop as I fight for space
against myself, to be sure

but I’m frighted of a too big pot
one in which I might get lost
what if the edge is far away?
so I can’t find it
to sit decisive-like and say
“I’m clearly too big for this pot
I must make myself smaller”


Naked Roots


I see all your roots
like knobby knees
As you cling alone
to that cliff made of rock

As you define
impossible with silence
and grace unashamed
of your nakedness
clean of the fire that
must have burnt off
all your leaves

unlike me
as they look through you
out of their picture
they think you’re
already dead

Today I see you
I pointed you out to
my daughter too
we’ll sit with you
we’re in no hurry.