Any Day About An Hour After Noon

I hate watering the house plants, the mundanity of it

the spray bottle, the jug, the untwisting of the top

the most beautiful of course- the dying one with all the roots exposed must be thoroughly sprayed first

all the dirt- fully dampened before I carefully pour; she did warn me

they don’t like to be moved. I should’ve listened to her

and there’s feeding Steve and I spilled the thing of tiny bouncing pellets again all over the floor

one day I’ll learn; I should be writing instead or anything of consequence. But,

what kind of human monster would I be

if I didn’t water the houseplants?

-Jesse Haydn

Published by Jesse Haydn Poetry

The written word is life. I am the proverbial poet-at-heart.

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