Bittersweet

Kathleen Hulser

Hommage to Poe

It grew despite a slew of adversities. Big toe, little toe, pinkie stubbornly pushing through an evil tangle of roots. Let me explain. Madly attacking a riverside jungle of bittersweet, I fought to clear a patch for a dogwood. Curling, tenacious, subterranean root networks defied my garden shears, loppers, hack saw and axe. Pull one end and the ground trembled and heaved eight feet away. Ouroboros, no root really ended. More and more enraged, I swung my axe with passionate abandon. And severed my foot. The gnarly root remained intact. But while I gripped my gushing stump wrapped in a t- shirt, a curious movement caught my eye. The foot had planted itself toes up. It sprouted, each toe radiated a healthy pink glow and greenery wreathed each joint with a delicate collar of chartreuse. Entranced and faint, I watched the fertile foot embrace the bittersweet root. Understood.