You Leave; Plants Wither

With no other choice, the plants do their best.

They photosynthesize, transpire, grow.

I, on the other hand, keep busy, go to work, shop, cook, eat.

I read, study, write, bathe, brush my teeth, sleep.

I do not, however, remember to water the plants.

Your look of alarm at their state upon your return

Might be enough to help me remember

the next time you leave.  But it isn’t. 

Nothing flourishes as well when you leave.

You Leave; Time Stops

The erratic tick of the misnamed “Regulator” pendulum

falls silent after a few days.

Then, like me, it hangs despondent,

waiting for the key that will wind up its innards

and the firm but gentle fingers that will propel it back into motion

to count out the irregular rhythm of our days.

Andrine de la Rocha

posted 1/6/2011