by Jasmine Knowles
Trimming the ends of the long finger like stems
I cut a 45 degree angle above the knuckle
The new ache oozes sap stored in the base of the stem
I toss the dismembered
piece and cut the friends one by one.
The precut thorns do no damage between my money grab fingers
I read somewhere that plants scream when you cut them
I often wonder if the other plants in my home understand just
How dying things look beautiful on my living room table.