June-22

You loved me as basil on a window sill,
bathing me in tap water to lift
my wilted palms in praise for your performance.

Do you know the cold? Then you will
know memory
as rinsed soil and half bitten leaves
replaced with longing

along my stem, my sternum,
losing my root
needing you
placing me
on my perch,
walking away
needing me
like applause.