Stunted Ornamental Plant
by Sabrina Dawkins
One day I saw you hanging on the porch
spilling over your pot
and reaching for the ground.
And every day since, I’ve seen you
frozen in time, reaching for freedom
in that prison pot.
In the shade darkness of porch,
you stretch to get free.
Your owners, so cruel
keep you there, high up,
disconnected from nature,
unproductive, unfruitful,
a pretty fixture
detached
from reality,
or a stunted fluffy pet,
stuck on the porch,
tied to a short leash
but no high-pitched noise.
So cruel, I once captured a piece of nature,
a frog in a container.
I closed the lid,
wanting to take it home,
an interesting thing.
My child mind didn’t know
it needed to breathe.
(And the adults didn’t tell me).
It was a thing that I liked
so I captured it,
frozen in time,
trapped.
And only as a child
not yet mature
did I think it was normal
to steal a piece of nature
and let it die slowly,
ignorance leading to neglect,
a pet bred to be small and cute
and produce nothing
but short-reaching arms
and short-reaching yelps
for a freedom denied
by the mind of a child
who never grew up
to experience freedom itself.