Caleb Knight

Watering Can
for Sarah

I give you the houseplants as you’re moving
into your first home. This bright red bromeliad
 
and lumpy little cactus have been my source of
autonomy during the first six months of sobriety.
 
They’ve allowed me to water them, and didn’t
die when I came home after working two jobs
 
and late-night meetings, too tired to raise 
a watering can for days on end. And now, I am 
 
passing them to you, my little sister, all grown up 
and moving to a bigger pot. You grew up while I was 
 
gone, sitting unwatered for many years, coming home
late from nights of drinking, too drunk to raise
 
a watering can. You were growing, so that when
I called that day in July, you let me water you 
 
with my tears, and gently told me
to come back home. 

Caleb Knight (he/him) is a queer poet living in New Jersey. He works as an audio engineer at Sound on Sound Studios, blogs for the Association of Recovery in Higher Education, and attends the MFA Poetry program at Columbia University. His work has been published in FRiGG Magazine, Door Is a Jar Magazine, and Beltway Poetry Quarterly. He is in long-term recovery from a substance use disorder.