Watch them beg for light beg
facing windows radiator on full
blast too damp too dry. On the
day we’re told to express
devotion with gifts that wilt or
melt you turned up with a
bromeliad flowering in purple-blue.
Now a head taking an
afternoon nap it droops and I do
nothing. I surround myself
with testimonies of life rather than
life. They gasp. I read that
green spaces make us happy I for
one always preferred the colour
brown. Brown tips I carefully
tear off the last one face pressed
against the glass pleading for help.
I feel for them trapped with me.
I lean close and whisper: we’re
going to be fine.