Read More: A Brief Q&A with Nivelle Davis
What possibilities might they open and what tender spots might they touch?
– Plant question by Megan Kaminski
I’m considering a new list of restrictions. Nights are dull without
warm breath on my roots. I’ve been misting Hoyas for months
with Miracle-gro, though it will require shock of cold or drought
to bring their vaginal flowers bursts to surface. Blooming, each
subspecies dews a different fragrance. I give a man my address.
He didn’t know me or my 200 house plants. It was the first time
I ever looked someone in the eye while having sex. I did it because
he told me to.
If you were soil, would you want to be inside? Are houses sexy?
– Plant question by Hanna Pachman
Silphium is the origins of the ubiquitous heart symbol. Harvested
to extinction, Romans used it on their coins. An early form of
contraception, it doubled as aphrodisiac. At 42 making a 2 AM
tour of CVS, it’s a world of plan B. Under florescent lights, we
all lurch between candy bars and Fireball bottles. No one makes
eye contact. I can describe the floor. Gray flicked tiles with sneaker
streaks. The 15th tile on aisle 8 is cracked in the upper left corner.
Greeting cards form a Colosseum of hearts. Tonight, three bodies
are heaped at the front door under blankets even in 100 plus degrees.
We all crave privacy, but I settle for red vines.
If your plants suddenly became people, what kind of people would they be?
– Plant Question by Carmen Fought
The Vagina Monster is a pole-dance move where the two sides of self,
attempt to escape each other. A door is formed. No. A side smile widens.
Menses like laughter so wet I can write a novel with it. The wallpaper
of the uterus is yellowing. Are we a way in or a way out—people? Let’s
not plague plants with anymore personification than we already have.
I’ve heard my ashes can be merged with a lime tree—my death might
become a margarita.
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