exoskeletons

sweeping tiny
exoskeletons
from windowsill
into palm
righting the pots
dusting loose soil spilled
from the latest
feline mauling

i hold the chewed
broken body of
seedlings i had nurtured

a small tree i had named
spruce springsteen
now a slimy mess
of gummed trunk
and budding needle
struggling to breathe

and elvis parsley
now just a spot of
green gunk
held in my
mothering hand

the feeling
of birthing
a stillborn