I think I hear my philodendrons
whispering
about my indifference lately
weeks gone by without watering
or worse
the sudden disappearance
of their neighbor
the one planted in the cobalt blue pot
the older thinned-out leggy one
just gone    I think
they sense my intentions
look how they droop and lose leaves

Do I smell their fear?
Yes! when I loom over their foliage
holding clippers
I am surprised by a certain musky essence

The truth is
I’m just tired of them
they have reason to worry    their future
likely lies at the bottom
of the dumpster
a dark and slow obliteration

Is it possible 
for a plant to forgive?    to understand
that I am just the catalyst
of the inevitable?    still
I feel shame
as they sway towards the window
sing in the sunlight 
offer up oxygen