Growing a Plant

by Jason B. Crawford

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For plant boi

The sticky boy loves the back of my hands.
Wishes he could lay in my palms a full
night and in the morning use my spit to 
shower. Must be a magic saliva. 
This mystic faucet dripping from my mouth
has washed so many boys crystal.
But this sticky boy, cinnamon and oil
twirling through his hair. He is not a soil
I wish to shower away. 
He tells me I smell like a whole earthquake.
His skin shatters when I am around.
And let's talk candid and open shall we? I
am not certain what he loves of this skin.
Me, all dry and rotten fruit. Limb skewered
to my torso and pelvis. Smile stone
and left a salted aftertaste. Arms 
gangly strips of rope. I am afraid 
to love him without being a noose. Or
a nuisance. The funny mouthed boy with teeth 
that continue to grow into me. And I 
let them. Silly me to have not learned the
safest way to discard a heart. I seem
to leave the floor bloodied and soaking cold.
I cannot say I love you without me
dying.

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Jason B. Crawford (They/He)was born in Washington DC, raised in Lansing, MI. Their debut chapbook collection Summertime Fine is out through Variant Lit. Their second chapbook Twerkable Moments is due from Paper Nautilus Press in 2021. Their debut Full Length How we Fed the Hunger will be out in 2022 from Sundress Publications.