climbing plant

 

She was born with bonsai petals on her feet;

   she doesn’t think, doesn’t walk. She only grows.

There is nothing in me for her, subfrigid and

   prone to breakage. She pulls the stems from

my wreckage, and crafts me a less stable seed.

   She did the smart thing; we have to share this home.

 

what she says about tending to my garden

 

“Plants can have heart palpitations. They have organs

   and bodily functions. When they die, they become

ghouls: the spirits of girls who gave too much in one

   life to deserve a full animus in the next.

Structurally, she is stronger, but blood chugs against her

   chest. I touch it; save her life. I love her now.”


Anastasia Jill is a queer poet and fiction writer based in the southern United States. Her work has been published or is upcoming with Poets.org, Cleaver, FIVE:2:ONE, Ambit, aptInto the Void and a range of other publications.