Mongrel (Poetry)

I need a thought-proof fence —
something to prevent the weed ideas from poking through
and strangling the rare bloom —
the focus I am nurturing for now
kept warm and dark within
requires a certain isolation for ensured survival.

So no distractions —
no rogue seeds that germinate — become alternatives
however beautiful — exotic even — they might seem
this well-dug earth is meant for one fresh rose
original and perfect — colour-true
no rivals for the prize allowed to grow.

But idle fancies root in fertile soil
and push their way determined while I sleep
wildness creeps on through — cross-pollinates
creates a mongrel dream that takes my breath
a jungle-flower-vision shooting strong
cultivates me — moves my plot (my other life)
                                        playfully along.