the stem, the potato, and us

On the Internet I read
that you can take a rose,
slather the stem in honey,
stick it in a potato,
plant the potato in dirt
and wait

The Internet told me I
could expect a new rose
in time

Now, my husband and I work
at a grocery store —
me with the flowers,
him with the produce, and
we discard rose stems and
fading potatoes every day, so
I told him with a wink that even
though we couldn’t have kids,
we could make a baby this way

And in our eyes I felt the objection
to this, because
what if this silly thing from the Internet
doesn’t work, and our potato rose baby
doesn’t live, and what does that mean?

But I planted it anyway,
and soon the bad potato smelled
so bad I had to set the pot
on the fire escape

But I watered it, and watched,
And the stem remained a stem until
one day it was gone

The pot was tipped over,
The potato was eaten through
by some squirrel with low standards

I guess I am not going to read into that