I almost forget to bring the cherry
tomato plant in for the night.
when I go out the sky has presence.
when I go out the muted plant
has 19 greenish-grey bombs.
I didn't count them but I know this
as they dangle
as I cradle the pot like a baby.
it suddenly becomes obvious
that I feel less alienated when
I have something to be fond of.
before I shut the balcony door I turn
and stop to feel something
from a night that feels like an abyss
and its synonym. the sky bursting
and vacant simultaneously.