Poetry by Joshua Zeitler
I had let it grow longer than I should, and was thinking about how
I had let it grow longer than I should. Weeks, maybe months, of growth.
The mower was having a tough time of it. I had to keep backing up
and pushing forward. One of the wild plants I’d never noticed before
had fruit that looked like little green paper lanterns, a groundcherry.
I had decided to steer around it when the mower choked out. I tried to start it
back up again but it just billowed smoke, and then chugged along
billowing smoke. I couldn’t breathe. I was gasping for air, and besides,
I wanted to give the groundcherries a chance to grow, and the other
plants I would have loved if I’d given them time: the goldenrod, the Queen
Anne’s lace, chicory—yes, even the thistle—have you ever seen
how beautifully the bull thistle blooms? I’ve always dug it out before
it could truly flower. Call it pragmatism, or fear, those formidable
needles. I’m changing my mind. I’ll let it grow. Maybe
I won’t even fix the mower, which doesn’t really look broken,
it just looks like it always does when I’m not using it—slim, and quiet,
and polite in its stillness, which might now last forever. Not laziness, I insist
to myself as I head inside, but a kind of mercy, of grace—and then
I see.
Joshua Zeitler is a queer, nonbinary writer hailing from the heart of Michigan. They are pursuing an MFA in poetry at Alma College, and their poems have been previously published in Black Fox Literary Magazine.
