I Do Not Believe in Weeds: Eleanora Hyde

April 28, 2020, Kate Belew With Eleanora Hyde (Brooklyn, New York)

Oh, this must be a love song
or else I may have heard it wrong, a spilt
rosé stain against the twisted sheets of

my own mind. These days I think everything

is crushed lilac, too sweet to breathe

and it is all some shade of purple. 

Tell me it isn’t wrong to want 

because it seems as if all I am is want these days

drifting from one pale violet ache to the next

like some sort of bizarre dream. Listen when I tell you this 

I’ve never wanted anything more

than to gather this in my arms, what harvest 

I’ve stolen from your wild garden

I do not believe in weeds only whatever 

grows with unintended beauty.