Vacant Lot With Pokeweed in  General   

Tufts, follicles, grubstake
biennial rosettes, a low-
life beach-blond scruff of
couch grass: notwithstanding
the interglinting dregs

of wholesale upheaval and
dismemberment, weeds do not
hesitate, the wheeling
rise of the ailanthus halts
at nothing—and look! here's

a pokeweed, sprung up from seed
dropped by some vagrant, that's
seized a foothold: a magenta-
girdered bower, gazebo twirls
of blossom rounding into

raw-buttoned, garnet-rodded
fruit one more wayfarer
perhaps may salvage from
the season's frittering,
the annual wreckage.

By Amy Clampitt

Tell Your Friends About It | Print This Poem

Comments

You should be logged in to be able to leave comments

Other poems by Amy Clampitt:

• A Catalpa Tree On West Twelfth Street
• A Hedge Of Rubber Trees
• A Hermit Thrush
• A Silence
• Beach Glass
• Easter Morning
• Exmoor
• Fog
• On The Disadvantages Of Central Heating
• Salvage
• The Sun Underfoot Among The Sundews
• Vacant Lot With Pokeweed