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.