Apology

by Lorena Freed

I know. I am the parasite. I pulled
those weeds. I tore out shrubs where the skunk slept.
My hominid ancestral violence crept
the ancient earth and culled and culled and culled,
its muddy mouth still burbling bitter heat.
Now I apologize at autumn’s feet,
waking remorseful for the young milkweed
I slaughtered before it could even seed.

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LORENA AXMAN FREED exists as an Ohioan child of the ‘80s, with work forthcoming in Blue Unicorn. A ghost since her ostensible birth, she is still figuring herself out and sometimes wonders whether she has really been anyone, anywhere.