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Shhh- The Plants Are Talking

A Poem

Roots shoot through my apartment,
the floors are cratered
I take care not to trip
even as leaves and petals are thrust
through my panes;
now I’m worried
about glass as well, but SHHH —
the plants are talking
They glanced each other through windows
and the whole block
and now the whole city
is interwoven
like wooden playgrounds
that slivered
our little fingers



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Justin Haag

A citizen of The Rustbelt, USA. I lived in Europe a spell. Frenetic and desperate poetry and prose. Support the Freak Power: