Like many of my life’s mistakes, this is one

I wish I could say I didn’t make on purpose.

And the truth is I didn’t intend

For plasticky black blades to slice through green

So vibrant and shiny it might be plastic itself

And leave there a gash with stringy green veins

Like the nasty parts of celery.

But one cannot accidentally fly an RC helicopter.

One cannot accidentally fill its back chamber with batteries;

Trip, and flip two switches to on;

Push forward the joystick that sets it airborne

With nary a thought to what “up” might mean.

When I cried later it was at the look on her face,

When she stood to retrieve the shears

When she excised the tattered leaf with the stoic countenance

One might use to put down a laminitized horse.

Tessa: I have never touched the RC helicopter again.

Tessa: you would scoff if you knew I’d written this.

Tessa: that monstera is lucky to have you.

Unlike me, it cannot feel

How satisfying it is to say something you find smart.

It does not know that you are funny

In the way that making you laugh

Is a tremendous accomplishment.

The monstera cannot wear jeans that make you ask

“Where’d you get those”

And feel a rush of satisfaction that

Stylistically

It did something right, for once.

A plant has no sisters and cannot understand such things.

But it is lucky to have you nonetheless.