Static Smooth

I threw a living pot at the door

One of those orange clay

If we wanted to be elegant it was terra cotta

It hit, Smashingly

the soil exploded

running down

Black soot dirtying my indoor mat

The root ball stayed

but the flowers

shaken alive

I stared conflicted

as petals settled, blood droplets

scattered on the floor

and I wept

without a single drop of moisture

The static enormous

I cannot hear

I want to beat it with a stick

But I don’t.

And I pick up the broken pieces

Threw them in the trash

opened the fridge

made a passion-fruit smoothie.