It’s the first day that I’m waiting
For my plant to grow.
The third times a charm, I
told my plant as
I grew impatient, “I’ll replant
You” I have said.
Once, I buried the pit of a mango
I could not tend to
And hoped the rain and hoped
The sun would.
“You should have
Told me” were words that my grandma
Uttered, and admonished,
I went to dig in her
Garden and couldn’t find it.
And afraid I tend to plant
Again and again,
Asking that an entelechy such
As a sprout of sewn seeds in any garden
In my garden grow.
Write New York 