river water winter chamber.

a room in a city where everything is gray. a sore throat. palest skin.

i think so often lately about growing things. i want to plant a garden. lillies and rosemary and tomatoes and fat pumpkins leaping up from the wet earth.

the smell of soil in the plot leading up to the organic grocery store in town does me in every time i walk past. i walk past in the afternoons on days when i don't have classes, late, when the school children are getting out and strolling home in dark uniforms and black shoes. constant rain. concrete buildings.

i want to take care of other things because i can no longer take care of myself. this is true now in every possible way. i clean the kitchen three times a day like it could atone for my sins and make things right again. i am trying. i swear i'm trying. i make the appointments. i go to most classes. i know that i complain too much. i'm sorry.

i miss my sisters and wish my mother would call.

blood, but just barely.