I am forever concerned
for the quality of the breast milk
I’ll never make. My partner and I, are out
here, in the sun, gardening in our ugly human suits
and lusting the next produce. We take the temperature
of each bell pepper, each tomato, and we hope for a healthy
harvest. We are always hoping for the best. But humans
have sent all their worst inventions straight into
the soil. You can taste the plastic before
it’s even grown, before it’s even
melting in your mouth.