my january, my silvermist
By Sydney Johnson
Odes to the greenery in my house that keep me constantly conflicted.
sweetly: my january, my silvermist stretching Monstera Deliosia a feathering Parlor Palm drying their arms under careful the brutality sun. of the i will not let you die. deceptively: my january, my silvermist To the drinkers of my water, those unlucky drying sponges, victims of care with outlet. The sun baskers, objects of envy Yellow not, your arms. Curl around yourself only at birth, when dependence is natural and good. Grow spreading. Clean our air, naturize the modernity of this house Eat so you may do these things, Eat so you may live with us Eat the sink water we give you and drink the light of the sun through the window we separate you and your grandmother from with I will strip you from the unstable roots of your mother and make you start anew, Grow to the shape of finality, choke on your own roots. Just don’t die.
I have always wanted to go outside of my comfort zone and play with format while writing poetry, so I thought this poem about life and movement would be a great opportunity. The life in these poems are my plants. I’ve learned a lot about care because of them. The first poem explores and honors my conviction to keeping them healthy, and the second is about my failings as one of their caretakers. Through these poems, I wanted to record my emotions as I work to learn more about how to take care of them.
Sydney Johnson is a long time reader, inquisitive writer and student. She loves listening to and making music, her houseplants and the visual and written arts. Her goal as a writer is to have the ability to guide her readers into understanding even her most complex thoughts.