still / apple of your eye, / i watched, tanned, / ruby-specked backs / of your arms fret / -working among the / ladder, the trellis, the / green bird net, a plastic / womb kissing each child / of the harvest. / tending now to your / empty nest, i call / to remind you my mouth / was born shape / -less, or the wet shape / of surprise! / that a language you’ll / never speak / managed to grow / inside. / 她 and 他 and / 祂 no more / than woodpecker’s work / outside your window. / why listen for the / western possibility / children are more / than pronouns / for their mothers. / when i fell in / the forest / i learned to hide / scraped knees / under straight / allyship. when you said / no one else’s / daughter would— / you missed / the forest / for the trees. / pretending now to your / empty nest, i’ll still / bleed sweetly / for spring’s / apogee. that / my beloved / rotten apples / haven’t / spoiled what / you’ve sown. / despite the net, / the trellis, the ladder. / we woke to / branches / all barren by tūī. / in the backyard i pinky
promised
not to
fall
too far.
to teach
you
gravity.
Featured photo by Michelle Tran.
