Lawns by Naomi Ayala

the magnolia tree I've claimed in full
April bloom & come visit
is in someone else's yard, has a surname
that corresponds to a playpen
of a parcel & its owner

and I think that lawns
are a concept of colonialist
empires, that hedges symbolize
prisons beautified
fences you cannot cross

like straps for oxen they tighten
around the back of the eyes
of your soul, wrap & bear weight
leave open sores to become
the landing strips of flies

I have turned organic fences
& frontyards in my dreams
over & over--a country-full
and know they become walls
against their will

rebel by growing every
which way so often
in the middle of the dark
that only blades can trim
their constant disobedience