Ivy

As spring stretched her bones the last time we met
A handful of ivy seeds made their eternal promise
on my back doorstep, evergreen
We planted them next to the rosemary
and I became the ghostly figure of a spectator
But it’s been 4 months since I’ve seen a white cluster of aphids
And in their wake, spiky leaves claimed the rosemary
choking the buds then, greedy for prosperity
Its fatal fidelity a sardonic mock of the blooming bush’s end
In respect, I mourned but wore green to weep
Because it’s been so long
I have an innate, gnawing envy for the iron plant
For its chaotic growth and the spiteful nature of nature
And the ability to stretch and swallow a house whole
while idling time beneath the morning sun
Forgetting where it started, then shedding its past
And when I went to pick my brain in the backyard
I stared until my eyes burned
Because now my mind is gray and rotting
but come spring again and it may be filled with roots
Sprawling in the crevasses of what once was mangled
digging deep into the pit of my head
Until I am ripe again
By that time the rosemary’s fate may have long been stolen
Yet mine is just beginning

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Madelyn Scholle is a sophomore in high school. Her work has previously been published in Middle Creek's Creative Writing Magazine, and Poetic Power. She thoroughly enjoys reading, playing music, and writing. She hopes to pursue a career in English or music in the forthcoming years.