Weed Killers
by Chel Campbell
inter prairie is hard on everyone, especially rabbits. Icy drifts cement over grasses and clover, so we peel bark from young trees to gnaw cambium. On frozen days we dream of warm mice in your pantries who meet sweet ends with tongues silked in peanut butter. Not a single creature can deny the allure of dying in comfort instead of clawing through an unforgiving life.
Then, somehow, spring air soaks our lungs again. New dandelion leaves stretch to embrace the toughest of us, shoot their tender arrows through our teeth. In burrows under the same half-naked trees, we will soon bear young, vulnerable to disease. In your world, survival means choosing someone else to suffer, to succumb another’s flesh to snares or poison’s inner detonation.
Still, we eat our earth, under our sun. So will you.
W
Author's Note
When I wrote “Weed Killers,” I was thinking of this fluid line between natural and unnatural cycles. Growing up in the northern prairie, everyone and everything attunes to its changing seasons. As climate change grows more impactful and unpredictable, I've observed how local floral and fauna respond. Two years ago, the snow and ice was so thick, the wild rabbits had to resort to chewing through a tree’s outer bark to reach the cambium underneath, an active layer that’s vital to growth. Then, when snow and ice wanes as temperatures prematurely rise, the buds and pests appear too early. Sometimes the tree can’t survive, especially if it's young. That following spring, I noticed that many rabbits lost their eyes. I have no idea what malady or disease caused this phenomenon. The next winter was milder, and the following spring yielded healthy rabbits. In the spring, they’ll eat dandelions, one of the first plants to pop up in yards and fields. Rabbits are natural weed killers, and they’re always hungry. But many people don’t like dandelions, even though they're completely edible to us, too. Many will spray pesticides to get a perfect green lawn, devoid of any nutrients. Then suddenly the rabbits become pests, turning to crops and gardens for food. Many rabbits will be poisoned, or caught and killed by dogs, or shot with pellet guns. And yet there are still so many. They always return in the spring, no matter how hard the seasons become. I think they will return forever. Where will you be when the rabbits inherit the earth?
Chel Campbell is a writer and collage artist from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. In 2025 she published Lovebug (rinky dink press), a microcollection of poetry which has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Recent and forthcoming writing and art appears in X-R-A-Y, Wild Roof Journal, and Blood+Honey. They also serve as EIC of MEMEZINE (@memezinelit) and assistant prose poetry editor at Pithead Chapel. Connect with them on Instagram @hellochel.
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