Grocery Store Green

The light hits the glass at four in the afternoon,

a perfect, golden square on the laminate ledge.

I gave it the water and the south-facing view,

but the basil is turning to rot at the edge.

I came home to find the top leaves had surrendered,

transformed into black, wet tissue paper overnight.

The soil is still damp, the roots are all tethered,

but the stems are just leaning away from the light.

One limp leaf is stuck to the side of the jar,

a flat, green bruise where the life used to be.

It had everything it needed to grow very far,

except, I suppose, for a version of me.