And we call any plant
without a name a weed! My nameless neighbors' lawns
all lack one thing the same, a weed.
A cultivated public
savors labels for each plant; the name for plants like me,
not raised in some cold frame—a weed.
Drought tolerant, viridian
and shiny in full leaf: Toxicodendron, though
poison ivy’s claim to fame—a weed!
With chickweed, ragweed, sumpweed,
bindweed, sneezeweed, and creeping charlie, there’s always someone
lower down to take the blame—a weed.
I did grow quite invasive,
given lover's rank to pull; a wave of love’s
transforming wand, and I became a weed.
Henbit's sought by chicken’s beaks,
and duckweed by ducks' bills; I lingered, wondering,
if anyone, will come to claim a weed?
WILLIAM DENNIS encountered ghazal on a trip to Delhi, and has been fascinated by the form, its atmosphere and its history for years. His work has appeared previously on The Ghazal Page and in Contemporary Ghazals, R. W. Watkins, editor. He has a two books of ghazal, available at Amazon in electronic format: Better Than Truth—Not Quite Translations, after Ghalib and Foreign Language—Exploring the Ghazal in English.