I’ll push against—
what did you say—any
edge. An orchid cannot
impregnate it-
self. Stamen & pistil sound
like dirty words, but they’re necessary.
I know how
to push
against the glass. I was a seed.
I was a sticky mess made from two bodies
colliding. The way swells rise
& fall, counting beats per second. Did she want
him? Did he
want her? Where did
he put
his hands
when he made me?
(I know I can’t ask such questions). I know
my father tried to keep me
after she died, but then he put
me somewhere else
where he thought
he could remember
where he left me.
Gloved hands. Dirty mouth.
Greenery, potted
things, with roots and seeds,
all must grow downward
first before
they burst.
Greenhousing
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