Tending the Weeds
Poetry by Damere Lee
Once, I woke up before tragedy
caught wind of a kid
with too much innocence riding
a bike across the bridge to the library.
Can you imagine?
The books were already in my bag
when you asked me what I liked to read.
A timid boy who learns to walk
on the brink of a tiger lily’s jaw.
Your manzanita tree limbs tremble
beneath the bed whenever dad is home.
Mistakes and poor grades bloom year round
as violets, orchards, poppies.
What did I know about tending the weeds?
It was already done before you got here
with honest hands.
I remember the brittle ease
you had, when you leaned back in my chair
and made the room murky with clouds.
I wished that we were grown ups.
You’d be smiling while we sit
with our shoulders kissing.
Spring came and the roses no longer flinched.
the garden would be
delirious & inevitable,
like joy.
caught wind of a kid
with too much innocence riding
a bike across the bridge to the library.
Can you imagine?
The books were already in my bag
when you asked me what I liked to read.
A timid boy who learns to walk
on the brink of a tiger lily’s jaw.
Your manzanita tree limbs tremble
beneath the bed whenever dad is home.
Mistakes and poor grades bloom year round
as violets, orchards, poppies.
What did I know about tending the weeds?
It was already done before you got here
with honest hands.
I remember the brittle ease
you had, when you leaned back in my chair
and made the room murky with clouds.
I wished that we were grown ups.
You’d be smiling while we sit
with our shoulders kissing.
Spring came and the roses no longer flinched.
the garden would be
delirious & inevitable,
like joy.
About the Writer
Damere Lee is a 21 year old poet born in Washington, DC. She writes for the woman who raised her at 16, her older sister named Robyn who taught her that truth is Damere’s greatest weapon when writing. She now lives in Northern California, being the muse & the masterpiece of her own story. Find her on Instagram @damerelee.