i called my parents to tell them i got home safe

the fridge was full of nothing
but garlic cloves & they fell out
onto the floor when i opened 
the door, hitting tile
& coming apart into cloves.

this much garlic could 
only be the result of well-kept
secrets & crying alone,
each clove a tear that found
flavor & grew skin.

i ask my family what has 
been going on while i've been
away & my mom rubs the dirt
off the potatoes & the celery rot,
as she works they 
also turn into garlic.

they ask me to taste &
i don't want to be rude 
so i do, i put a few cloves
into my mouth & hold
them under my tongue
until they turn to liquid
again & i swallow the saltwater.

we cut the garlic with
a butcher knife because
it's the only knife
we have left that's 
sharp enough.

the inside anatomy 
of garlic is curious, 
heart valves & finger bones
all joined together,
as i work the smell 
creep under my finger nails.

at home after dinner
i smell them & feel like
i should have asked more
about the garlic.

i open my own fridge 
& a few bunches fall out,
i put them back frantically
& open the cupboards 
to find more garlic inside.

i sit at the breakfast
table & start eating,
it's the only way to get 
rid of this much

as i chew i think of
my garlic bread phase
& the sauteed mushrooms
i made with just one 
tear drop, sizzling 
in the pan.

i finish & i check
the fridge to find just
one new bunch sitting
on the shelf.

swallowing it whole,
i feel the garlic make itself
into an organ, nestled 
somewhere in my ribs,
it's where homesickness
comes from & 
of course cravings 
for garlic bread.