too late for sunflowers

nothing breathes here. the disconnect

is overwhelming. it grows far

quicker than the oregano plant,

who keeps drooping

down under the windowsill

instead of looking for the sun.

the succulents on the coffee table

have survived a winter and, more impressive,

a summer. but at the one-year mark,

they’re no bigger than last fall.

the sharp petals stagnate. 

sometimes i type only

for the sound of clacking.

i imagine my heartbeats sound

similar, if not exactly the same.

 i water myself and the herbs.

i stop, though, above the empty pot,

the glass container of

                                  dirt.

last year’s sunflower is long gone:

a bud for three months and then

decoration for the garbage.

this year i talk about restarting

and finally taking the time to do

everything that was possible. now

possible is the one basil plant who

managed flowers, who warranted

a place on the porch outside.

Cailey Johanna Thiessen writes: “I am a poet, freelance writer, and translator. I grew up across Mexico and the United States and write in English and Spanish and sometimes a mix of the two. When not writing, I spend my time drinking coffee and looking for beautiful things, like God, cacti, and that weird little fish called an axolotl.”