Droplets punch down, diving rain becoming
a mother sow’s underbelly on the scaffolding outside,
new poison now, I understand and don’t want to.
The storm steers me to the windows like a swimmer’s final lap,
and thunder’s peroxide punch disinfects my ears with sound.
I know this acid on my hand’s not safe to drink atop the heat sink.
The hardware store across the street folds glass panels skyward
to protect anemic palms, poison lilies, carnivores,
a crowd of cramped pots watching from the floor.
My Venus flytrap died last time, it was already crisp on the table
when I snatched it at a discount. The shiny tag
requested rainwater to live. I was almost asleep when I realized,
it’s not safe.
I miss its ovals of birdcage spines on the sill,
waiting for flies to surprise until it stiffened, black
from root to tip. I boiled water for the last times,
for a spiral of coming night.

Noll Griffin (he/him) is a visual artist, writer, and musician based in Berlin, Germany. His first chapbook titled “Tourist Info” is available through Alien Buddha Press. You can find him on Tumblr/Twitter/Bluesky under @nollthere.