Transcendental Cactus
Sydney Barmoy

Pincushion declared sentience as an act of spite.
Held up a mirror for me, his caretaker,
To see.

Decorated but not a decoration—
He insists.

His spines splayed out,
Fingers scratching my skull.
His mammillaria body manicured
Unwillingly—
My constant attention

Watering him.
Sunbathing him.
He was ungrateful,
All Pincushion wanted to do was die
And take me with him.