There is so little left of the tomato plants.

we drove on through
the blue seal of morning as the turbines
turned and winked out their hearts

this is what I want you to to see:
leaves falling because it is too late for them not to

You are strange, my mother said, dwelling on the past.

my father holds
his favorite drink

You said it was okay to blame
what goes wrong on the planet

In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers,
my back a misguided quote

Mostly he ate what was put on his plate
snuck coffee grounds or dirt for a snack
Once a zipper Unzipped

how does an afternoon turn
on its axis?

I don’t
know why
I’m in the garden
kneeling on dirt

Any still figure at mid-late evening, when the long shadows make even crumbs appear arranged like furniture.

I have an axe
with hearts gashed

I myself should never have been born

We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time