lantana in the clearing

Lantana in the Clearing

Clusters blaze at the forest’s edge,

imported fire dressed as carnival bloom.

A gift once carried across oceans,

now thickened into barricades of thorn.

Birds scatter seed into gullies,

creeks choke under the weight of color.

What was planted for delight

has learned to occupy every margin.

The flower’s stink betrays its brocade,

a gaudy veil over strangled ground.

Farmers curse, children marvel,

and the scrub hardens into its grip.

No sermon follows—only the thicket,

pressing forward with unyielding hold.

It does not depart, it does not relent:

a presence that seizes the clearing entire.

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