Spike's Feng Shui

It is with great regret
that I am writing
to inform you that
Spike
is Dead.

He stood
silent
on a windowsill
for eighteen months.

Motionless.
Unobtrusive.
Undemanding.

Then,
riding on a drunken wave
of unbridled courage
he set sail upon a gust of wind
veiled
as promising spring air.

Spike sprung through nothingness -
hopeful,
he took the leap.

The wind slowed,
its swell decreasing
suddenly.

Most regrettably
Spike landed not on my bed -
as I imagine was his original intention
(being
an obelisk-shaped cactus
complete with
a pink flower
perched on top.)

He came to rest
against
the cold tiled floor of my room,
his body mangled
and twisted
and broken.
Not his intention,
I'm sure.

My windowsill
looks plainly
onto my bed,
just a foot away.

The wind
smiles upon successfully
ridding my room
of bad
feng shui.

Spike is dead.

Hope lives
in the smile of
the wind.

Perhaps the next plant
to grace my windowsill
will be
a
ghost orchid.