by Tonee Mae Moll
We failed, you & I, to care for plants we potted at the start of summer—lamb’s ear & lavender, one for each pocket. You told me you loved to stroke the soft fur of the hedgenettle & the smell of your hands upon pinching a switch of lavender & I said I loved our hands together, futuring something into soil.
Then we failed in miniature each day, forgetting the attention required for something gentle to thrive, until, too late, we realized that they were barely holding on; that—whether wither or rot—something had soured as we went about separate summers; that we could not now feed them all at once without drowning; that every living thing wants for water, care, hands, and to be thought of every day.
Dr. Tonee Mae Moll is a queer & trans writer & educator in Baltimore. Her debut memoir, Out of Step, won the 2018 Lambda Literary Award, and was featured that year on the American Library Association’s annual list of notable LGBTQ+ books. Her latest poetry collection, You Cannot Save Here, won the Jean Feldman Poetry Prize from Washington Writers’ Publishing House. Tonee Mae’s poetry has also received the Adele V. Holden award for creative excellence and the Bill Knott Poetry Prize. She has been a finalist for the Baker Award, and her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of Net.