See me now. I am as tough as a roaring
mother bear. Some lost gardeners
are watching -- strange, lonesome ones
who don't see my wet eyes or fatigue --
the green and black and darker green,
the limp, the broken parachute, the fat
mirror, and the wool. Some macho man
will hook to me, skydiving tandem.
I am not afraid of the ground, the fall,
the sky, or the wind; it's everything else --
the no-named caterpillar, all the weight
in the world, my childhood home
for sale. I am afraid of resting, the first
day, some new sound, and all of the dirty
dirt on earth. I am afraid to forever
miss you like I miss myself. I'm guessing
that plant's called cat mint.
C.A. MacConnell
