Reasons to Garden

Every other day I water my tomato plants,

the clouds have been reminding us

we live at their mercy, humbling

to our assumed dominion, having fate

suspended above us as a floating lake

broken into millions of pieces

that can’t even fight off the viscosity of air

the last three weeks

every other day I spray an oil 

to suffocate aphids

that smells like a rotten chemical fart,

I accidentally sprayed the oil directly

into my boyfriend’s face yesterday,

when I apologize for things

he asks if I love him, and, of course,

I say yes

and he says that’s all that matters

twice a month I feed them

mostly nitrogen, which exists in air

too tightly to be absorbed by bodies,

of tomato plants and people,

a lightning strike is one way

the atoms separate 

to convert to a usable form for plants,

or, you buy a bag of lightning at the store

and sprinkle a thin band encircling

the hungry guy

So, last night in my nightmare

I was cupping one of my teenage fruits

in my palm, still green with hope,

me and the tomato,

and in my intense admiration

of clouds and lightning incarnate

I broke the tomato off the vine.

I awoke completely devastated,

then smiled as I walked out my door

greeting the bug covered, dry plant,

when I fill my life with tender things

I get to be heartbroken

over loving a tomato too intensely.