The Book Life

4.4 | April 5, 2010

There are no plants in my apartment.
I tried to have a mint plant, bought it
at the farmers’ market, in the fall,
but I live in the basement
and there’s just
not enough sun. Even
if I lived somewhere airy
and light, though, I’m not sure
I’d have any plants.

I also don’t like being given flowers.
I’m confused by it, don’t know what to do
with them. The smell of flowers
in the spring, outside, is nice,
but I’ve never wanted that
inside.

The outside is out there. The inside
is in. There are so few
clear lines in my life and yet
I aspire to clarity
sharp and elusive as the horizon line.
So I keep the outside out.

Of course, I also don’t have a vase
for flowers, which currently come only
hypothetically,
from hypothetical suitors,
and I also forgot to water the mint plant,
when I had it.

[PROMPT: Illustrate your idea of inside-out.]

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Posted in NaPoWriMo, Poetry
Tags: ,

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