Penny Pepperoni, I mean Pink Lady, I mean peperomia caperata
AKA my best girl
also known as the growing, breathing heart-stone

of the Silverleaf hab

The thing about peperomias is they can live through anything, except too much attention.

I have been overwatering
my insecurities
and my plants
–to have some sense of control–
–to convince myself that care is care, always–

now Penny’s wilted over on the dining room table, asking for more and less than my insistent whisperings of

“come back”

If you ask Penny Pepperoni what kind of animal she wants to be, you will remember laying in your front yard, rolled up like a snack wrap in a


so that the earth could hold you safe as your great grandmother’s hands

Penny Pepperoni plays the game exactly right.

If you ask me eight ways to next Sunday what kind of animal I want to be, I’d say, “Plant,”

Every time. Except this one. This time, and only this,

“The one that can help.”