A week after fumigation
the Jade plant out front dropped its leaves,
small fleshy pads littered
the courtyard and I pushbroomed them
into piles, the cement stained and slippery
with their juice.
Within a month, the bark puckered
and pulled away from the inside meat
as if distancing itself
drawing back from life
little by little,
until drained and hollowed,
for my slight tug
to uproot its empty body.
Published in Red River Review