Paige Menton



What if we became plants peach colored trumpet


creeper if we became the yawns of plants the hiccups


of plants the stretching our backs of plants around


a Devil’s walking stick along the rocks of lemon thyme


the turning toward the sun of plants




What if we launched ourselves completely into


such humility




What would we need then


What would the real plants steal from us the imposters


safety deposit boxes antique clock pacifier crocheted


afghan nicotine patch army fatigues happy meals




We would get the roots





Paige Menton lives outside Philadelphia and teaches writing and naturalist studies to homeschoolers at a local arboretum. Her poems have appeared in ecopoetics, Combo, 6ix, Bird Dog, and 26.