Sowing and Weeping by Jai Subramanian
The last time we met you’d said
there was no way to fix something so
far beyond dead. “Rotting”
was the word you’d used. Rotting
for the world to see. Rotting
like the shrunken lump you made
your face into. I’ve seen people
lack conviction but yours
is a vehicle that was and has passed.
I’d buried myself deep inside you, hoping
I’d grow. But the seed rots
for the sprout and even trees
weep when it rains.