Grasping Nettles
My father showed me how to pull nettles without being stung.
With a confident and downward grasp and without hesitation,
To grip and flatten the stinging hairs by following their direction
but I have never reached to do it, or had any to pull in my city garden.
I watched him dig sods with a spade and turn them over row by row
So that weeds would bury beneath each shiny clod and not regrow
But I have never had more of a garden than a small brick-paved courtyard.
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