I grabbed and yanked at you
like pulling a ****
splitting my concrete path
with thick roots.

I plucked you out,
like they told me to,
but the root
broke in my hand
below the surface.

The crack you grew from
an open mouth,
laughing,
as I dig
until my fingers
bleed.

The piece that’s left of you
already sprouting:
tiny fingers grasping
at what’s left
of me.