She told me that she, too, had a garden
Here, in the city, and asked if I would like to see it?
“Yes, where is it?,” I asked, confused.
“In Defiance,” she answered,
taking my hand, as I followed.
She pointed out a little tuft of grass in the crack of an asphalt parking lot.
Next, she showed me a strawberry plant growing between a building and the sidewalk. Then, past a chain-link fence with barbed wire and morning glories growing on it.
The more she pointed out her defiant garden
I saw that no matter what they tried
She would always grow something somewhere
And yet they continue to try to keep her at bay.