that plant in the window
may well resent those roots
firmly potted and positioned
on that westerly sill
held in place as it is
by those wispy tendrils
straining outwards
desperate for growth
ever-reaching for
the drifting light
of that introverted Sun
evasive though it may be
its potential remains
dirt encrusted and anaemic
as the hidden branching is
neither its stem nor leaf
nor its bud or flower
could realise the heights
that it hopes to achieve
without these buried parts
for though this tangle
is filth-covered and
far from what any wish
to be faced with
when in admiration
                   of such flora
without this
the evolving maturation
from ceaseless elongation
and meristematic activity
the terracotta on display
could not be filled with
this greenery so vibrant

sometimes the flesh
assumes
a yearning
to sprout out
in directions
untested

i’ve seen my own chin
do this
on occasions
gone meristematic
elongate like a
Hungarian salami

pull at it a bit too fast
and risk snapping it off
like a *** of Silly Putty
better yet
slice it
into poker chips
all rubberoid
like the 10th grade fetal pig
impregnated in polymer
enjoy its silky layers
have respect for this power
don’t **** it
with the dissecting needle
or epilate it with hot wax

it will only grow back