pear shaped

the daughter’s jungle is a boomerang

she said it all went pear shaped

too many guys running amok all hours, raiding her vegan lasagne

and smoking with the windows shut 

and they don’t apologise she said

intolerable I said

then flared;   why do pears get the blame for their shape?

who decreed that life should go in straight lines?  and that

anything that deviates from that is undesirable?   smacks

of curve-hating, life-fearers to me

we load up dirt unloaded into the custom made veggie bed

made, only  months ago (not built to ramble)

and the worms  - ( ah the worms! ) have ventured forth from their  

tower so all the lessons about flourishing  are moved back in

in my charge until the next garden is rented;

herbs will wait in pots, for this roaming to cease

the flowers, sulking at all this turbulence

withhold their blooms til they are treated with

respect due

my own terror of pears  left to trace  its swollen contours  

winding the bends in the path curving back

( beautiful forbearance) she moves her jungle