Today I am a pot plant
yesterday a tapestry
of vine leaves tomorrow
I’ll turn emerald green
against the lawn laughing
when they laugh desperately
trying to decipher the rules
of their conversation slipping
in appropriate portions of wit
never stretching my neck out
long enough for them to take a bite
never risking all to feel the cold
silent death of being held
by disapproving eyes never
risking that again.
And only when they’re gone and
coffee cups clinked away
into clean cupboards will I
unfurl my petals
stretch my furry limbs
and breathe a sigh of relief clamber
out from behind the curtains
I’ve been bulging behind
nervous as a small child frozen
in a moment of shame
and chat comfortably
with myself.
Header photograph © Lesley-Anne Evans.
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