Grass In My Pocket
Don’t you remember? That one time
When we were young and adventurous
We settled on shared breath between
Pine trees and our neighbors oak
Tugging on leaves like they were
All we could afford to clasp
My mom saw us
Hitting each other with sticks
In the chilled South Dakota summer
Like a pair of yokels
In on a joke no one understood
She looked at us firm
Soft white collar hands on her hips
Thin from stress
She told me plants feel pain
I was hurting them
I stared at my bare toes
Wedged in supple grass
And I wondered if you
Also lacked guilt.
Copyright © Gia Chesshir | Year Posted 2023
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