A Poem by Stephanie Powell

Horseweed

I’d like to see it flower in Illinois
on upland prairies and
on vacant lots,
a bullet between the concrete, buds like wispy fungi.

Unblanched stems, the colour
of condensed milk, with a smirk
of green-
leaves toothed like a circular saw.

Horses who eat it
suffer irritated noses,
suffer inflamed gums and eyes.
In loamy soil it is growing spare heads,

a weed that is also a fortress,
always growing, growing, conquering.

Stephanie Powell grew up in Melbourne, Australia. She spent the last few years living in London (with stints in Canada and Kenya) and has recently returned home. She writes and takes photos. Her collection Bone was published by Halas Press in July 2021. Her work has been published in Ambit Magazine, The Moth Magazine, and other places. She is the recipient of the Melbourne Poets Union International Poetry Prize, 2022.