In the weeds

Justine Fletcher

The boy used to put parcels

on the road

to play tricks on strangers.

He was always in the weeds.

Some took an interest,

their kindness a salve between him

and a threadbare

punchshovescream home.

Reading between the lines

they spoke gently, chose rousing words.

Tacklesidestepsprint

offered somewhere else.

But staying out of the weeds is hard

no matter who you meet

or how much goodwill there is,

so many tangles never unsnarl.