by Jen Hunt, from the archives
I have only seen one fern this winter
Besides those memorialized in vinyl
On my bathroom floor,
The floor I have cleaned like a handmaiden
The floor I have wished gone
Since the day we moved in.
An immigrant from Home Depot,
(The fern, mind you, not the floor)
I called her Charlotte
At less than ten dollars
A cheap cure for lonely winters.
When the landlord said no pets
She could not have meant plants
But we all know those extravagant
Bostons shed like dogs,
And, well, that’s more vacuuming
For someone
In a home where kids are little and feet are feet
So I was not wholly shocked when my husband
Noting her consumption of the living room
Sent her away
For which I remained stiff until spring