my potted plant deserves a better mother.
she wakes to strawberry-stained light and
my heart splattered all over the walls. she
teaches herself to sip moisture from the air,
crisp and cold as long-buried bone. she
watches my face drift in and out of waking
and says, this girl must be the child of unraveled
grief and soft-edged intentions. if I was a hand,
I’d be a child palm scraped bloody from
asphalt. if I was an animal, I’d be a firefly
sizzled in blackened forest lung. if I was an
expression of love, I’d be the flowers left
behind for a ghost. if I was birdsong, I’d be
one unholy, unending scream. my potted
plant smells of warm moonlight even when
her leaves wither. she packs resilience into
tiny boxes living unaware inside her. I give
her all the water in my blood. we eat sunlight
like it’s a dying meal.
Wanda Deglane is a capricorn from Arizona. She is the daughter of Peruvian immigrants and attends Arizona State University. Her poetry has been published or forthcoming from Rust + Moth, Glass Poetry, L’Ephemere Review, and Yes, Poetry, among other lovely places. Wanda is the author of Rainlily (2018), Lady Saturn (Rhythm & Bones, 2019), Venus in Bloom (Porkbelly Press, 2019).