Who do you trust to hold your hope for you?

I trust any bee delivering pollen through my garden

and any fairy that can hold a secret 

well enough that I don’t know they’re visiting. 

I trust a portion to any friend who has bolstered my sobriety, 

the awkward, heavy beast that it is. 

And more to any family member who let me cry.

I trust a sliver of my hope to the stars,

hope they’re too far away to lather it on their tongues as gossip.

I trust any flower that only opens itself to the moon.

I trust the moon.

But never myself.