Mother’s Backyard by Elisa Peterson

Mother’s backyard was groomed,
except for the fenceless perimeter
where wild blackberries loomed
seven feet tall.

Every year she would cut them back.
Every year they grew back, with a
vengeance, calling to mind science
fiction tales – carnivorous plants
who devoured their humans, slowly.

Why, I wondered, didn’t she call in
the experts to kill them? […]