Mercy

All October I watered the ground, tricking it 

into believing the autumn rains had arrived. 

Now there’s half an acre of oxalis to be knifed 

out of the dirt with my hori-hori. 

Beautiful oxalis, sour on the tongue

and neon yellow in the fields. But invasive, 

not meant for this garden of coastal scrub,

a refuge for over-wintering 

monarchs, waxwings, turquoise bees. 

What are the odds of keeping intact

a place of breathing and easy slumber? 

I dig down to the corms—

those bulbus nodes of irrepressible

growth waiting in the deep to send up 

yet another shoot, waiting out of sight. 

Dirt finds its way beneath each fingernail, 

into the cracks on my rough palms. 

My basket fills with green leaves, with tender 

white filaments laid side by side, thousands. 

Published in Alaska Quarterly Review, Vol. 40 No. 3 & 4 (Summer & Fall, 2024)