Where the Grass Grows Tall

There they sat, underground in the dark
in a place where no grass grows.
The lawnmower, her camouflage bag filled
with her past, a tub of her belongings abandoned
inside the subway doors.

She had meant to move on
try again to cut the surface even
mow down every obstacle of discomfort
make things all tidy, safe
but she opted instead to leave that all behind.

She’s on to greener pastures where the grasses
grow tall, wild, free.