a poem about children

there is a lemon tree in my parents’ backyard
which i planted when i was 12.
i have never seen the products of its labor,
i have never known the soil that gives it life.
i have a tendency to abandon
the ones that i feel i might love the most.

there is a memory in the back of my mind
of a bulb breaching the boundaries of my lips.
i have a flower that i hold in my hand,
cut off of the tree before it could reach maturity.
the fruit has a tendency to wilt when i am near.

there is a bitter taste in my mouth
and sap running down my legs.
there is a seed in my mouth
and a bitter taste running down my legs.
i have nothing in my stomach
and dirt running down my legs.
i have a tendency to cut the fruit
before i know that it has rotten

tell me, is there shame in admitting that i want you
to let me see you to the end
even if it means you fall away from me
and splatter onto the ground where
the one before you laid