The basil went gray weeks ago

The basil went gray weeks ago,

a mummified stick in the window light.

When the ceramic hit the floor,

the dirt didn’t shatter or flow.

It fell out in one hard, thirsty lump,

the exact shape of the plastic liner.

A root-bound ghost of a summer

left to rot by the kitchen pump.

I tried to sweep it, but the grit

clung to the rubber of my soles.

Now I’m tracking the graveyard

into the carpet, bit by bit.