Gordan Struić

Houseplant


I water it
the way I once spoke to you –
too little,
then too much.

Leaves curl like tongues
learning to pray.

Soil exhales
the smell of something
half-alive.

The pot sweats.
Roots press
against their limits.

Sunlight
reaches in,
a hand that won’t commit.

I tilt the saucer,
watch the overflow darken
the windowsill.

When the stem bends,
I whisper
as if it could still listen.


Back to Issue XIV…


Lynne Ellis writes in pen. Their words appear in Poetry Northwest, The Seventh Wave, the North American Review, the Missouri Review, Bracken, and many other beloved journals and anthologies. Winner of the Washburn Prize, the Perkoff Prize, and the Red Wheelbarrow Poetry Prize, she believes every poem is a collaboration. Read their digital chapbook, "Future Sketchbook," online at Harbor Review. Ellis holds a Certificate in Editing from the University of Washington, serves as a poetry reader at Crab Creek Review, and is Publishing Editor of Tulipwood Books, a developmental-editing press. She wants to work with you.