When your work has sprouted from the cracks between the blacktop cement
It only makes sense to write when a new coat of tar rolls over the weeded plant,
a sunflower composite that seemed to have ignored the signs of the inescapable end

I do not know if it shifted the soil underneath,
A mixture of clay and dirt, bursting with life
from ants and beetles and worms moving like clockwork
without reason but knowing a purpose
Perhaps they captured a seed, passed from
The ants to the beetles to the worms to
The designated placed underneath the back top cement

I do not know if the weeded plant as a seed
Had died many times over underneath concrete, tar
Or how many years of pushing in to the darkness
Not understanding why, it was there and so intolerable to move
Weaving around blind in the underground hoping for a weakness
To explode through it, breathe the air it has been deprived of,
To feel the warmth of the sun, finally
Exasperation of holding your head underwater for too long
Not knowing where to come up at

I do not know why the weeded plant has sprouted
Perhaps it has nowhere else to be, perhaps it was meant to grow
In black tar places, knowing a purpose in it
Perhaps it cannot not be but to grow and push through possible cracks
It’s inability to die, it’s contract with cyclical nature to take back what belongs to it
Containing something far too important to give up to the pressure of the tar lying on it
Containing something far too important

When your work has sprouted from the cracks between the blacktop cement
It only makes sense to write when tar has rolled over the weeded plant that has
Sprouted in survival
In an inevitable beginning