Kudzu

Cradle me
Suffocating green god
Seep into my flesh
And interlock my fingers with your vines

Drape over my head
The blanket you designed
Weave your threads through my lashes
Hold, Breath. Pass, Time. 

Strangle me
Homogeneous forest creeper
From crown to toe
Mix my blood with your pulp

Take my veins
And wring them out
Drain my body
Drink the juice

Infest the shell
Stretched skin on canvas
Limp limbed 
Art dies

You were so much
I had to be little
Kudzu ringlets fester

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Kudzu is an invasive Japanese vine known for its incredible growth rate and destructive impact on foreign landscapes. Though the extent of the plant’s threat has been more recently challenged by the Smithsonian Magazine, kudzu’s legacy as a relentless weed continues.

In my personal battle with depression, I’ve often described my experience as a constant fight for agency. Kudzu is a poem about that fight and the toxic, parasitic relationship built between a disorder and those suffering it.

Visual Credit: Justin Wilkens