You Told Me To Write A Love Poem

that dim room
the asylum within you
from which you reach out with your touch

lipsticks, hand crèmes, body mists
on a bohemian shelf,
that Alice Roi gown
from a second-hand shop

the turn of your tiny wrist
as you butter toast, wash dishes, water plants
or write

your patience when I lose
glasses, wallets, keys, gloves, hats

your insight
when I seem to lose it all

self critical bouts:
am I ugly?
find me boring?
kisses make you doubt your doubts

you keep me laughing
even soaring

– first published in The Saranac Review

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– next poem

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