Brief Notes From a Long War

 BRIEF NOTES FROM A LONG WAR 

If victory entails the sure elimination 

of weeds, the battle’s already lost, 

the city besieged. These roots run 

deeper than the shoots reveal, 

deeper even than the bottles claim 

to combat, which even if you resorted to that 

would wither you as well over the course

of generations, its bile biting the hand

(or the tender off-shoots of the hand)

that sprayed it. If, however, 

you define it as a bit more room 

for what’s good to grow, than yes, 

victory is complete and eternal, so long 

as you sign off on being completely 

willing to eternally return to the front 

lines, snapping the hydra’d neck 

of whatever head rears up from your soil 

today, seeking to leech the nutrients 

from the part of you where the flowers

cluster in buds, awaiting the signal.