when it hits,
the sheer weight is enough to force down —
first the head,
then the shoulders,
then a hook in the chest to pull down upon —
force me down through the soil into the
dark damp earth.
it’s here i wait and hope and wait that by some small chance
someone passing over will remember to water,
to share the tiniest bit of light,
and i might begin to grow into something.
lifting up to water myself is a chore
i can’t undertake — i am too ******* tired to remember
which direction the sun rises.
but, oh, how i want for my toes to root deep deep down
my mind to branch out east to west
and flower high, high! into the lavender sky
my arms to reach for the stars on my branches
to revel in their sweetness with someone who might want to stay
and just chat to this little seed
and watch it grow
over and over
and over.