Your News Hour Is Now Two Hours Poem by Karen Solie

Gratitude toward the houseplants, shame
for what they must endure. Of particular concern,
the azalea, flowering like the gestures and cries
of someone off the trail who sees a
helicopter. And a long cold night is coming on.

Is it dying or being killed?
When I'm 100 percent on what's happening,
there's still that niggling five. Too much
water, neglect, information. Decisions
made at the executive level.

Science tells us plants emit signatures and responses
on yet another frequency we cannot hear.
That's all we need. When we were little we were
told our heads were in the clouds.
Now we suspect it is the opposite.