In the apartment, I want
________________to water these plants
__into companions. This,
_______________________________a plot on which I’ve stood before,
________________wishing to attend
______________________to a thing that depends,
______________________or else,
__perishes.
__Even at my most powerless,
__________I’ve killed often:
____________________________________insects__________for being,
____________________________________and grasses, pulled viciously
____________________________________________like hair from a scalp.
When I flew out to see my friend
for the last time,
I booked a hotel room
________and opened the fridge.
________I remarked plainly to the bed
______________________that I’d never been emptier,
______________________then took sips from a small insult of wine.
This is not the same grief.
The loon takes off and the bed
________is just a bed. Here, or back there.
Published July 2nd, 2020
Spencer Williams is from Chula Vista, California. She is the author of the chapbook Alien Pink (The Atlas Review, 2017) and has work featured in Apogee, Bright Wall/Dark Room, PANK, Anomaly, DREGINALD, and Powder Keg. She holds an MFA in poetry from Rutgers University-Newark and tweets @burritotheif.