The summer after we planted

Bermuda grass (for the second season),

it grew up yellow and brown,

crunching under our bare feet.

We rented a townhouse

with gravel covering the backyard,

our lawnmower sat rusting,

rainwater infiltrated the motor

until the engine would no longer

turnover; the machine rested

in our front yard and bothered our neighbor,


whose Pink Double Knockouts flourished

despite the atrocity. My husband admired

her vibrant bushes. He frequented other yards,

rustic fountains with circular drives,

embedded in Kentucky Bluegrass

and stone patios adorned with

rows of Black Knight Butterfly bushes.

I stared out of the kitchen

window at grey pebbles

and signed divorce papers with a pen,

(attached to a plastic flower).

I hear,

He still enjoys wandering into yards

to appreciate gardens he will never obtain.

2 Comments on “Landscaping

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