Two Universal Truths and a Lie: (in no particular order)

I

The peas were not properly supported.As they grew they looked around for whatCould hold them up, help their vines straighten.The trellis I'd made was too farAnd none could stretch a tendril so tautTo reach the weathered bits of string and wood.Instead, they clung, each vine to the othersUntil I could not tell where one began.July’s continual long march toward heatWill push them all down to the ground. ShowNo pity when the bottom leaves turn brown.The weakest ones will hold tighter then,Still hoping the few strong can hold them up.But by August, all are dry and done.

II

You Tree-Of-Heaven, called ailanthus,Outside my flower bed but spreading fast.History records your presence,tight and tangled, tropical,In early China’s dawn.They treated you with honor, gave you a homeIn royal palaces and fields alike,Your sucker roots outlasting dynasties.Now Ohio calls you pest, invasive plant.I will have you out by Independence Day.The resurrection lilies growing nearWill not protect you, they'll be dug up too,If that’s the only way: DestroyingThis garden to get to you.

III

He thinks I must be something I’m not.My hair: fragrant August goldenrod.My lips: a rose blooming throughout the year.These hands of mine are moving gently,Swaying blossom laden branches.When he hovers over me I senseHis soft caressing tarsus on my arm,Looking for pollen waiting only for him.His two compounding eyes cannot yet tell,My hair’s just stringy achromatic strandsThat seem an ultra-violet look-a-likeTo flowers, not the scent but the sight.And I, I’m just a woman on her porchWith chips and apple juice, baloney for lunch.