Bitter Root

Annoyance upon annoyance grew—
a half-inch, an inch of rue; and since

I’d let them, a whole field, a mountain.
They occupied the furniture, took over

all meals, travel plans, the weather—
At night I rocked their sleepless

siblings and fed them all remaining
rations from my day: and still they howled,

opened their mouths to bare hungry gums,
the blinding whites of pointed teeth.

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.