I moved the plant

Innocently, but out of the sun

and then saw the look on your face

You are anguished.

Well, I mean,

You are growing,

and filling space with beauty

rich insense

ceramics

and funny little socks

it all keeps me wonderfully

oxygenated

I can breathe each morning

Knowing that as I lay down at night

quiet and awake

I will breathe again.

But I’ll suck up all that wonderful air,

my chest expanding

and my belly growing

scarred heart protruding

and blow out nothing but fumes.

A silent

and slow

killer.

You’re trapped.

I keep you inside a little glass box

or vase

or dome

the terrarium

or whatever it is you might call it

home sweet home, maybe.

But as you bloom

and your roots expand

petals facing the sun

drinking in beams

I always know

You’ll remember the glass

and long for the breeze.