When the geranium died
its leaves shrunk in on
themselves. The last drops of
moisture extracted, they faded
to ugly dry scabs, sloughed from
the stem. Limbs amputated, fallen
hands open on the dirt.

The stems gave up later.
Green skin became paper thin,
peeling in ribbons of brown.
The vessels in the core released
their liquids, thick black gore
filling the center. Despite their
rot, they remained standing, their
home abandoned, their
heart neglected.


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