How Wrong for Grass

How wrong for grass
to grow here,
how un-useful and ridiculous
as if mocking us
in our syllogisms of dust, dirt and mud.

In Victorian backyards
playing our kids’ games- arguments
in preparation for decay.
Our grubby little hands happily alive
clawing through rubble, hurling half-bricks.

Scabby-kneed, black-eyed.
Our outdoor world of muck and middens.
Crumbling dikes.
An uncared for land.
How wrong for hope.

I think mine came from comics.


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