Potted Plants

ICR

Whatever it is,
and I know this might be one
of those everyone things,
I think the whole
of it comes
down to what crosses
between senses. Like
to one day run out of the things I
say that I’ve never thought what they
should sound like because
dirt of it floats in the
droplets of the edges
my lips
and the petals of
these words are reaching up to the sun
to let me know they need
no more than I have given.
But would I even know
what that sounds like.
The smell of my
summer grill and friends
and the words and their sounds of them
would I even know what that
feels like
to know what it looks like
the water in them also rising
to the edges of their mouths
and thats good
for the words and with them the
flowers they’ll grow
and the music they’ll
make with them.
The after of wondering
whatever it’s that
we crave to know whole of,
like the heat and hunger
between the first
time two palms fall in love and the volume
what that looks like.