This poem reads like a children’s book for adults—or perhaps an adult’s letter to their inner child. The speaker introduces us to Lady, a plant with personality, who communicates through her foliage: one leaf standing straight means “I’m thirsty,” leaves perking up means “You’re beautiful,” and sometimes she waves “like a tiny green flag” to say hello. The deliberate simplicity of the language is the point. Plahm strips away all poetic ornamentation to create something unguarded and sincere. The emotional payoff arrives in the stanza where sadness appears: “If I ever feel sad, / Lady leans toward me. / Her leaves bow gently, / saying, / ‘I’m here. I love you.'” The poem expands into philosophy in its final movements, asserting that plants “don’t just grow. / They listen. / They watch. / They love.” The name “Lady” carries resonance throughout Plahm’s work, appearing in poems about his human beloved—here, the name creates a gentle parallel between different forms of love and attention. The final couplet—”Her name is Lady. / And I love her back”—mirrors the opening, creating a satisfying circularity. This is Plahm at his most accessible, offering a small parable about presence, attention, and the many forms love can take.

“My Plant Named Lady” is an unusual entry in the collection—deliberately simple where other poems are lush, deliberately childlike where others are complex. This is both its strength and its limitation. The poem succeeds completely at what it attempts: creating a warm, accessible meditation on the quiet companionship of a houseplant. The decision to give the plant dialogue (“I’m thirsty!” / “You’re beautiful!” / “Hello there!”) risks preciousness but is handled with enough restraint to remain charming rather than cloying. The stanza about sadness—where Lady leans toward the speaker and says “I’m here. I love you”—provides genuine emotional depth beneath the storybook surface. The philosophical turn at the end (“Plants don’t just grow. / They listen. / They watch. / They love.”) earns its place because it emerges from the specific relationship rather than arriving as abstraction. The naming choice is smart: “Lady” creates resonance with Plahm’s other poems about his human beloved, suggesting that love and attention operate similarly across all relationships. For readers expecting the collection’s more elaborate work, this may feel slight; for those open to its particular gentleness, it offers real rewards. Think of it as a palate cleanser—a small, true thing between larger courses.