Sunday, January 9, 2022

a bag of tomatoes

when my father 
had a garden
he was
proud of his tomatoes,
his beans,
his lettuce.
the rabbit fence strung tight
around the small
square of yard
to protect them.
he'd fill a paper bag
of red
tomatoes, and say here,
here, take these
before you go,
a gift of sorts,
trying to make up for
so many
unspoken things.

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