Pigweed

Up in the garden came a little shoot –
“Pigweed!”
Mom shouted,
Like an old friend she thought was dead –

We’d been there nearly ten years,
Longest I’d been anywhere,
Second longest I’ve been anywhere now,
And never seen it:
A weed that grows up north, where she was from!
How’d it get here?

So she let it grow, the pigweed,
The size of a three year sapling,
Overshadowing the carrots and the radishes.
We browsed the leaves like deer.

Then I came up to Brooklyn,
And in every sidewalk crack,
Amongst the mugwort, deadnettle, cheeseweed, plantain,
Pigweed!

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Milo Wissig (he/him) — small paintings, long [th]reads, trans rites, OSHA violations. More work: Patreon | Website | Instagram | Substack