Queer Facts About Vegetables

I know I am a nightshade,
it says to its own limp vine.
I know how to burst

against teeth
with my juice and seed.
I'm as small

as a thumbnail, no,
I'm as big as the harvest
fucking sun.

I'm fresh blood
on a small curled fist.
I can be a boy, I know,

but never a man.
I can be Sunday gravy
or a pickled green.

This is still the tomato
talking to the vine,
as told to me.