to kill them outright,
or leave them to die
in their four inch pots,
though my neighbor said
they were too stunted
to be worth the effort
So I took them out
(feeling vaguely like some servant
in a fairy tale, who doesn't want to kill the child as ordered)
I dug a place in last year's garden,
wholly overtaken by thistle, sorrel, blackberries and grasses,
robust and deeply rooted,
eagerly becoming meadow
I plonked in the tomatoes,
wrested last years cages from the weeds
to keep myself from stepping on them
(and in case they find a way to grow)
Sorry, little plants. Good luck.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 14, 2021
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