it’s every morning when the toothpaste falls

off my brush and I notice a flower

in my garden has fallen over and

scraped its knee that I recall exactly

how empathy tastes. knowing I can just

wipe it up and squeeze it out again and

hold him for as long as he wants until

his stem is better. learning that even

flowers might need a little help sometimes

and that I kind of feel bad for washing

away that misplaced paste and that it’s not

her fault she couldn’t quite land. and when I put

it like that I start to feel like I’m a

little more human because here I am

feeling bad for the things that cannot feel.