I do not want plants to have faces,
or leaves that close at touch.

I want to hate them for their frailty,
their anchorage,
their fruit.

I want to think of the trees like I do the telephone poles.
I want to see the flowers like I do Christmas lights.
I want the grass to be sidewalk, the weeds bathtub drains, and every spec of pollen-
dust.

I want to think of them as dead
as green stones that do not reach for the sun,
that do not dig their fingernails into the soil,
that do not wish for the wind
to take their seeds distances they will never know,
who do not thirst
who do not brown and dry when the world forgets them.

04/21/2008

Author's Note: I was iffy about these last two lines : "I do not want the plants to have faces because I want to believe that there will be room for me in heaven." So I omitted 'em. Wrote this because everything I study in biology scares me.

Posted on 04/21/2008
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