By Amie Potter

Should I teach my daughter how to forage–to spot, for example,

the Pennsylvania bittercress that might spring up as hope

to nourish her after a nuclear winter?

Look for the leaves. They’re pinnate. Watch for the small white flowers.

That kind, too, you take. See the fine hairs on the stems? The red veining?

(Or would a good mother lend purpose to chaos?)

Here are the seeds from the milkweed. Feel them. They’re like the scales

of a silken fish. Keep them. If anything happens, it is your job

to bring the butterflies back.

Amie Potter is a writer, gardener, and overly enthusiastic community college English professor. Her poetry deals with nature, trauma, and the underbelly of the domestic. She has also been published in The Hopkins Review.