"Black Thumb"

BY RAE STACHOWSKI

Everybody at school got one. 

Terracotta pots with shy buds

just peeking through the soil.

He threw his on the kitchen sill

and ignored it. Against the odds it grew.

Lapping up rays and drops

that shouldn't have been enough,

somehow it grew.

Full and vibrant and unlikely.

Until one day Paul Henkens came over

and mentioned how nice it was.

Even though he’d forgotten all about it

and didn’t care whether it lived or died, 

suddenly all that mattered was what Paul thought. 

That evening as his mother swept up

the crushed petals and broken shards

she would cry fat tears into the dirt

although she couldn’t have told you why.