in the neighbor’s lawn there’s a group of them
turned to seed, translucent balloons
pulling away from the earth
i imagine a dirt-nymph’s fist anchoring the strings
behind the chain-link fence

the school lawn is misted over with their yellow heads
i remember the sullen brown spots near our house
where yard maintenance had sprayed
the sales rep who came to the door described the process as
not so much poisoned as over-nutriented

a circle of bright faces spring out, wild, ragged and impudently hopeful
near the base of a tree in the woods circling the school lot

well they won’t be there for long
my daughter taps the window glass
look! the man straddling a Jon Deer in the field
probably imagines himself cowboy of the broad plains
and not the Grim Reaper to Spring’s bounty

children file up the steps between the rails,
their heads tilted forward to offset the pull from straps of their backpacks

 

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Jenica Lodde is an emerging writer whose work has appeared in or is scheduled to appear in IO, Word Fountain, Remington Review and SWWIM.  When she is not nursing her mental illness, she is usually sleeping.