Is it unethical to anthropomorphize the Amaryllis outside the shed?
I’m asking for a friend. The domestication of wild has always struck me
as selfish and yet I picked a Geranium I found on my way home because its
veins reminded me of my own. Perhaps our plights are similar. Not native
in this soil, we are aimlessly spawning roots only to be met by terracotta borders.
I cannot keep myself from weaving my own neurosis into the stems of those around me.
I stay awake wondering, do Cherry Blossoms get nervous? Or if Leaves dread the fall,
do they miss Trees, are Branches happy they’re gone?
Is Ivy like acne? Do Buildings covered in vines just wish that the itching crawl
could stop, would they buy concealer and across the counter face wash if they had legs?
What does the Ivy think of this? Do they define themselves as
burden or beauty? Is my skin glass
or my eyes projectors? I am unsure how much of me is situated in arrogance,
unaware of my own dimensions. I am always in the way.
(Am I made of everything
or is everything made of me?)
BY OLIVIA SCARLET HOFFMAN
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