It starts too late for you to know,
Like secret silent suffering waiting in the wings.
Clustered bold green leaves — Climb,
Wiggling in the light breeze, gently waving, innocently.
Pop. Spread. Hurt. Like. Hell.
Touch. Don’t. Touch. Don’t. Ow.
NO! Pink. Red. Yuck. Sore.
Expanding, overtaking, impossible to eradicate.
Pesticidally-, fungicidally-, chemically-created carpet lawns
Have begotten this explosion.
Time to move.