Shattered
My houseplant committed suicide.
It came out of the blue - or at least - I didn’t catch the signs.
I’d put it on my window ledge so it could catch some sun
- it appeared to be having a good time.
I brushed it with my elbow - the wispy kiss of a butterfly
and it leapt to its shattering end - I never will know why.
The girl it barely missed, looked up - in accusatory alarm.
“What if that had been a BABY!” I yelled, to keep her calm.
We had a terra-cotta funeral - my roommates seemed really sad -
and a reception where no plant-life was consumed.
Lisa, acted quickly - she’s a fashionable 911
and at the funeral she buried the corpse, in a new pot, in her room.
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