i am planting seeds between tiles on the bathroom floor.
fingers bloodied,
ceramic grouted dust caked under nails
as I dig inch-deep holes
into the cracks and place,
oh so gently,
small dark seeds into the soil of
this apartment's skin.
i am on my knees
praying,
i am on my knees
planting,
i am just
on my knees.
using toothpaste to bury the seeds,
i caulk them into place with
my own ingredients.
i take a shower
water puddles under my feet
and i imagine the seeds drinking it up,
gorging themselves on my
dirty water.
dirty because i haven't showered in days,
dirty because i sweat,
dirty because i am me, and it has touched my skin.
and i imagine that one day
i will walk into the bathroom to find
a field of blue mums,
marigolds, lavender, daisies, and
clover,
bursting up through the seams in the ceramic,
staining the walls, reflecting light back onto
my skin and i'd feel-
god i don't know-
i think i'd feel alive.