I’m not a number.

I’m not real or rational.

You may attempt to find my sum,

but I will warn you that

I contain none of the symmetries

you might expect.

Your flower pot has something beautiful

growing inside of it is all

I want to say.

You’re beautiful

plus very far away.

I cannot stop remembering the details of this messy life.

There may be various species of pain.

By the windowsill,

the sunflower shrinks against the sky.

It is parched.

I take a sip of water.

I cannot stop remembering the details of our messy life.