Three years ago
I was given
my first cactus plant
I named her Esperanza
Today I threw her away
in the kitchen trashcan –
the things we love don’t always get a funeral
when they rot
when we overwater, over love
accidentally
I keep her red ***
on the windowsill
empty
the garbage and walk it to the street
thinking of her green thorny throat
turning yellow and soft
when I still thought
exposure to the sun would heal her
Through a window I see
a dim living room, brown couch, teal walls
I imagine it is our couch
we must be doing dishes
after dinner – your hands
on my waist, I always forget
to take my rings off
until I have already started
scrubbing the plates
I take away your hands
leave on the rings
let the plates air dry
Let Esperanza grow
black spots and mold
and worry only about
the next plant
her red *** will hold
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 2:56 PM UTC
Three years ago
I was given
my first cactus plant
I named her Esperanza
Today I threw her away
in the kitchen trashcan –
the things we love don’t always get a funeral
when they rot
when we overwater, over love
accidentally
I keep her red ***
on the windowsill
empty
the garbage and walk it to the street
thinking of her green thorny throat
turning yellow and soft
when I still thought
exposure to the sun would heal her
Through a window I see
a dim living room, brown couch, teal walls
I imagine it is our couch
we must be doing dishes
after dinner – your hands
on my waist, I always forget
to take my rings off
until I have already started
scrubbing the plates
I take away your hands
leave on the rings
let the plates air dry
Let Esperanza grow
black spots and mold
and worry only about
the next plant
her red *** will hold
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