You didn’t take me seriously
when I said I was qualified.
It’s okay. Money grows

on certain trees, and people
like you pluck them leaf-
less. I want to hold the roots

in my hands, my long and
hardened hands. I want to make
a phone call on your behalf.

I wish I had a trust
fund. Someone I trust
to grow within me.

A seed that sees
how dark the world
becomes without

the light to grow,
planted anyway.

(originally published in Poetry Pacific, Spring 2025)