a tomato is a gasp
in the leaves.
a succulent, a prayer
in a sheaf.
in the august garden
the reaching for hvn
never stops, it’s been built
into me. i heard once
that the point
of life is pain.
a shadow,
the darkening
carving out the edge of de-
light—carving,
into the nectarean, like tomato
juice carves green’d
rivers down my arm
when i bite,
how i shiver,
how the cold
spoons the heat.
Tara Labovich is a multigenre writer and an MFA candidate. Their work centers on questions of ancestry, queerness, survivorship, and creative community.