Botanical Jihad

Deployment is plotted
months in advance.

The troops are entrenched: Africa, Holland, Guatemala,
summer's mummified icons.

Against November's frost, I launch
passive torpedoes, cocoon-like dwarf dahlias.

Tiny trip-wire crocus
wait to detonate March.

Beneath shriveling amaryllis swords,
guerilla grape hyacinths quietly muster.

Anemones infiltrate herb garden walls,
burst against the eye in a gaudy invasion.

White narcissus resist underground until deepest winter
when they resurrect and attack.

Blasted lobelia have no choice;
the encircled carnations fall and surrender.

Take me to: When the Garden Lets Itself Go

Last Update: 04/17/97
Web Author: Jennifer Lagier