Lament for a Houseplant
They told me it’s impossible to kill
a cactus. They were lying. Does this look
alive to you? I didn’t think so. Still,
I swear I did everything by the book.
I put it on a sunny windowsill.
I watered it, but not too much. I took
it out for walks. Perhaps it caught a chill?
Should I have chatted to it less, or more?
Maybe it was my choice of topic. How
was I to know topology would bore
it half to death? If I could change things now,
I’d read it something short and sweet, like War
and Peace, or funny, like The Golden Bough.
I don’t think it liked 1984.
In any case, it seems I’m done with plants.
Think I’ll crochet one—it might have a chance.