i ask the sun too much

each plant i’ve kept alive so far i call my friend.

each of my friends has its own quiet prayer,

it’s called how i’d like to be cared for—

for instance, from a distance, please & gently,

within reach, without expectation but this—

i will try to stay alive if you try to understand me.

one is never not hungry for all my attention—

the gift of you bending you backwards

to please me. still another’s impossible,

erratic at best & unwilling to clarify—

you’ll just have to learn to learn what i want.

what i want? is a room where the light finds me

easy & all that we need, we have.

This poem appeared in Burningword Literary Journal, Issue 113, 2025.

10.09.2026

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