Morning Glory, by Barbara Anger

Before I had a garden I praised the morning glory
Watched it climb up the sides of porches
Open its fluted white flowers
At the dawn of day and reach for the sun.
How sweet, I’d think.

Now as I weed my garden
There she is in all her glory.
Wrapping herself around the clematis
Choking its budding flower
Taking it, pulling it over
Toward the thorny rose vine.

Careful not to break the stem
Of the clematis
I begin to unwrap the morning
glory
Pulling its root from the ground.

There I spot another one.
Her leaves nearly heart-shaped
Taking my leg in its reach.

Clinging to my bony ankle
And running up to my knobby knee
Growing upward to the spot,
My spot, where I cannot resist.

You can’t get rid of morning
glories.
So I try to manage her,
But you know
That’s not something you can do
In a relationship.
Wild remains wild.
Accept her in the garden.
What else can you do?