watch me
watch me wrestle with affection,
try to see what hand it sits better on
before i realize it belongs in my heart.
watch him, doggedly, strike a terrible charm
watch me call him dumb, or something he is not
and can't be, ever
as our mothers in the corner, with their cups of tea
laugh softly with hands covering their mouths.
my mother calls it pure, like the tulips
sitting on my desk, reaching their canary yellow
heads to the ceiling, perhaps seeking
more
than they ever know.
Gender:
Points: 110
Reviews: 121