“God is Love,”
I write to my friends
Who are getting married,
“Thank you
For making more God,”
Which I think is a pretty
Short sermon.
She said, “it’s OK,”
And meant,
“Go with love,
Though I do not want you to.”
El fantasma de mi madre
Está cocinando.
El olor de la hoja de laurel,
El dolor de un pequeño corte,
El color de la cúrcuma.
Y la niebla suave y cálida
De sopa en la cocina.
Estoy cocinando pollo
Para mi pequeño hijo.
“Love can mean
Leaving someone
Alone.
I know,”
I said.
So here I am,
Love.
Backing.
Away.
Slowly.
