Gardener

I

have a

seed inside of me,

it tells me when things

are wrong. It sits in the pit

of my stomach, and alerts me

when there is a problem. My stomach

will clench, my heart will race, a cold sweat

breaks on my brow. When I listen to this seed

its grip will ease, but only if I do what it says.

People tell me it’s not healthy, to keep this seed

Inside of my stomach, that tells me what to do.

But how do you get rid of something with roots?

Over the years, this seed has sprouted up toward

my mouth. There are times when it speaks for me.

There are times when I choke on its verdant leaves.

This scares me more than anything, that I’ve come

to rely on this thing that uses my tongue, but it’s

never steered me wrong. It’s smart, this seed of

mine; it senses things with its roots before I can.

With trembling hands and trepidation, I have

started to prune its leaves. I have begun

to reach inside myself and control

the growth of this lifelong

companion.