Avocado rots in the kitchen of our house
when nobody is watching,
like the ghost of the apartment we once inhabited.
They say he drank for laughter but
the listing didn’t mention his humor or
death.
We brought a puppy in
without permission and
the ghost let him stay -
it was the landlord who was angry.
Dying flowers wilted in the sun on the patio
but we couldn’t see
through the blackout curtains.
Now, we let light in, welcoming the new
ghosts we have yet to meet -
we hope they like tea;
we are growing too much mint.
Soph lives in the mountains, where she writes whenever she can. Her recent work can be found in WOW-Women on Writing, where she placed 3rd in the Q3 2021 Essay Contest, Anti-Heroin Chic, Entropy Magazine, and Phoebe Journal. One day, she hopes to run her own tea shop.