Enemy Weed

I’m not sure what that plant is,
pushing its way up by the bench in the woodland garden.
It is large, though, and I think
it is impatient to eat my impatiens.

Curiosity hinders me from attacking its horrid tap root.
I know it will fight back by reappearing overnight once I do.

But, tell the truth,
I want to see what it will do.
There is a guilt that goes with
clearing “weeds” from the garden.

Certain that this plant
does not truly hold evil intentions toward my impatiens,
I must still pull it out;
it is in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Perhaps it thinks the same as I,
and sees my legs and feet
as evil attachments to the ground,
ready to tap out its existence.

I will never know;
I will pull it out as best I can regardless.