Wisteria can pull down a house 

Marge Piercy 

The wisteria means to creep over the world.

Every day its long tendrils wave in the breeze,

seize the bench under its arbor, weave

round the garden fence obstructing

the path. Its arbor’s long outgrown.

Such avidity. Such greed for dominance.

It has already killed the Siberian irises

it shadowed, stealing all their sun.

Should I admire or resent? Neither.

I go out with loppers and hack and hack.

If it could, it would twine around my neck

like a python; like an angry giant squid

it would pull me into a strangling embrace.

I will grow back, it swears, and outlive you.

Its vigor outdoes mine. It will succeed.