Weed Over Flower
 
You will pluck her like a string,
a note you are not sure of,
a weedy thing. She will not be 
held like a flower, for she is a weed,
a tangle of leaves, an unmanageable 
gnarl of seeds. Not a thoroughbred, 
not a pollinated properly, well-hemmed 
thing. She is a hybrid, a cross-pollinated chore.