A woman strains.

Fingers choking the weeds that choke the lawn.

Pulling until the cracking roots give way.

Dark earth heaving with a final breath.

Spikey leaves aching to return the favor.

Only for her to do it all over again.

***

The sun beats down.

Back screaming in protest.

She enjoys it as much as the ejected weeds do.

It has to be done,

Even after the lawn is long since withered.

She does it for her.

***

It was never her job to attack the plants.

Rather it should never have been her job.

Her presence is needed elsewhere.

Both similarly and differently.

Because nobody else will.

She does it for her.

***

Her partner rests inside.

Scrolling endlessly on the phone.

Not joining her in the yard.

They are rarely seen together out there.

He does not see the weeds.

He does not do it for her.

***

So she remains in the yard.

Pulling out lawn weeds.

Until the ground breaks open.

Until her body fails.

Until the lawn is long gone.

She does it for her.