1. The tomato plant had fallen over just above the last tie.
2. It was bent at the waist, crown down. I righted the tomato plant to bind it to the stake.
3. I took off my leather collar and looped it twice and snapped it, strapping the tomato loosely to its stake. I meant to trade string for it but I forgot and left my collar there.
4. The upper half of the plant was heavy. I pulled it up gently, straightening the plant where it had fallen over at the last tie. I had no string. I called to John but he didn’t hear. I was committed already. So I unsnapped my collar and bound together the tomato and the stake.
5. I forgot my leather collar in the garden, wrapped around, and holding up, the fallen tomato. I straightened it out without first fetching string.
6. I forgot my leather collar in the garden, where it’s now holding up the tomato plant. And so I feel naked, despite two other chokers. It’s threatening to rain.
7. John might find it, like he did my leather cuffs, left behind once in the garden. I had already made other ones by the time I got the first pair back. I’m tempted to make another collar to replace the one left behind with the tomato plant.
8. When I wound my leather collar around the tomato to keep it staked I thought of you and how you raised your hand to my throat, hooked your index finger in the front of my collar and pulled me toward you for a kiss. You chastised me for always taking over and I promised I wouldn’t and your delicacy was lovely and feral. You took your hand away and I said – I like that – and you did it again.