House plants by Hanna M. Owens


I sit down on the floor fold my legs beneath me fold my knees in the middle of a circle of potted plants I made a large ring of all the plants in this house they’re not my plants they just live in this apartment I’m staying in I pull the pots closer to my knees to my hips my back until their arms and legs tickle my face and poke my elbows and I close my eyes I take a breath I try to listen (this is really a quiet neighborhood) I try to clear my mind clear out thought after thought (about the dishes and if we have milk and how crowded the train will be and whether Alix will walk today) I try to listen to the plants to hear how they live to hear what nature thinks about what bounces around a plant limb what echoes in the halls of a root I listen and listen and finally they tell me “we’re from IKEA.”