when i think of you there are

so many thoughts that come to mind

i cannot put them into words. green sunshine. your hands

tangled in the twisted stems of tomato plants, the odor

clinging to your skin so you stain metal faucets alive.

sometimes when you leave for work i can still hear

your words dripping from the ceilings, through the leaky patch

where shower water refuses to drain. catch the droplets in my palms, pray.

i have seen my grandfather only a few times;

he is the one who kisses my cheeks & hugs like a bear.

maybe you still see in him the person that

terrified you into a twisted shadow in the corner,

love & fear in one. maybe you see him like that

because he doesn’t like my father.

i do not know why you do. mother, remember when you nearly kicked him

out of this house? i made you tell him to stay.

now he showers and leaves dripping patches on the floor,

soaking through carpet and floor. or maybe that’s me, my curls

clogging the pipes, some unsolvable mess. pray as i reach in with

my bare fingers, pulling out dregs of hair, scrubbed skin.

grit my teeth. gray, not green, dead, not alive.

now i wish i had tomato plants for hair, so there would be some

part of me you would touch.