A War of Roses

A poem about nature’s battles

thorns have furrowed my skin into ridges and valleys shaded with umber depths

their pain felt — and dealt — in defense but the fault… mine

I invaded their spaces snipped twigs and hips with industrial steel

forced one woman’s will upon the snarls of nature’s abandon

I am the interloper the invader whose brutal attack

will not

be repelled. I swear I have powerful reasons for this, but I wonder

when sinewy vines unsheathe their claws and strike back —

whose battle am I fighting?