The Broken Plant Pot
Your shards still sit on the bottom step –
clinging to the seeping moss for comfort,
the ceramic edges threatening to crumble.
A reminder. A warning unheeded.
I’d never liked you much anyway;
your design not something I’d have chosen,
your green paint imperfect and sloppy.
It was just more convenient to keep you.
Even now I don’t throw you away.
I leave you to sit under the weeping sky,
in the dark of these wintery nights;
the motion light your only false glimmer of hope.
I didn’t mean to kick you over
but I didn’t even flinch at the clattering crash;
a cool clarity coming over me, no guilt –
the epiphany that I should care so little.
The pieces can’t glue back to how you were,
you’d be left a misshapen mosaic mess
but the bin seems like such a final step
and so there you still sit, awaiting your fate.
Kirsty A. Niven is from Dundee, Scotland. Her writing has appeared in anthologies such as Landfall, A Prince Tribute and Of Burgers and Barrooms. She has also been featured in several journals and magazines including Cicada Magazine, The Dawntreader, Dundee Writes and The Poet’s Republic. Kirsty’s work can also be found in many places online, such as Cultured Vultures, Nine Muses Poetry and Atrium Poetry.