this is the first time I am an adult
and this is the first time that as an adult
I have a garden.
I sown my watermelon knowing
that its seed would prefer
another weather and unpotted soil.
maybe it would prefer not to be on a balcony.
in any case, we never choose
the ground we are born into.
I kept a diary for its growth,
but counting the days wasn’t enough.
I dug the dirt to see the stage of germination.
my grandma apprehended me
but trusting her is hard ever since
she transformed my spinach garden
into a bowl of soggy green.
I was nine and feeling like
someone I love could steal from me.
my watermelon is a sugar baby,
I give all that it asks through its leaves.
when the time comes, I am the pollinator.
flower without belly touching flower with belly
each pollen to become a seed.
the belly becomes a melon
silly, growing heavier
the size of a ping pong ball,
a fist, a balloon.
I give it a hammock.
my parenting style is apologizing
for inappropriate conditions with gifts.
I come to it often,
garden breaks instead of cigarettes.
I watch for bugs and signs of communication.
there are many things I cannot tell
from its hardy green.
but I learn to watch what grows and dries
while I wait for the time of sweetness.
the moment I’ll see if we made it.
for now there’s a spider on
the left lower side of the watermelon plant.
I look into the eight eyes and thank her
for being the darling who eats aphids.
If I am not the only one
guarding and feasting
I think we might have a chance.
Laura Mota-Juang is a Taiwanese-Brazilian shameless experimentalist from São Paulo and based in Tiohtiá:ke/Montreal. She is the author of Light Spill (Block Party Press, 2023), a chapbook inspired by Physics’ imagination. Interested in collaborative poetics, Laura has co-authored the chapbook to say what we see (2025) with Sophia Cirgnano, and friend/shapes friend/scapes (2024) with Hannah Polinski. Laura was a finalist of the QWF’s carte blanche Prize 2023. She is currently painting playful creatures on thrifted garments at No Fiction Projects.