Sweet pea

With ungrateful 

ears and eyes 

we deem 

little

hands and feet

bothersome,

cumbersome

unfit to rest 

in the shade of our

important!

cucumber patch lives…

unfit to nestle 

we wrestle 

with 

blades and spades 

and scalpels and knives

against green peas

who hang from umbilical vines,

against green peas who defy 

our cucumber worlds where

our daydreams 

bake like unswollen suns 

and “freedoms” yank

lives right off the vine

where

weeds

and crisp brown

leaves are 

fashionable and assorted

aborted babies 

are pharmaceutically-correct 

commodities

where green peas are trampled

under foot

and stale winds burn

cigarette holes into 

unwanted pregnancies 

and no one is allowed to 

say much about it…

because

we believe in 

peaceful places 

where cucumber tombs keep

our lives 

free

keep our lives 

safe

from ever having to call 

a little one 

sweet pea

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