Molly Finch reflects on growth in adverse conditions
He loves me. He loves me not…
He loves me…. He
– loves
– me
– not ?
Fuck it, I am a feminist, it doesn’t matter,
I will grow from my ground up.
But the shovels at the back of the shed,
The spade – aren’t where I thought they would be.
Then there is the gardening; do I water once or twice daily?
Nobody planted the seed: I don’t think they gave it to me,
I’d have to dig to find the roots,
There is no point before Autumn and
A barren plant pot looks strange.