my friend once said, if there was a button
to destroy the whole world, i’d push it if
i’d still have wifi. & yet, he is capable of
such kindness, has cupped my name
in his palm for five years. it’s so hard to say
i love you to the people who matter, we
prefer euphemisms & translations: a plate
of cut fruit, shared illness & pain, driving to
the airport in the rain. exhibit a:
someone i love was hurtful with his words,
yet he learned a language to read mine. &
sometimes i still find it hard to sift through
the blending of heartache & hurting & heard
& is it possible that my mentor couldn’t hear
the crack that rang out through our trust
when he put his hand gently on my knee, a
betrayal gift wrapped in white silk?
what i mean to say is we all love a little bit
differently. & some are hurtful & others heartful &
many both. i have felt both, been both. i am still so
clumsy with love. unpracticed in speech. & i pray
that my speech would be gentle. i pray that i stop
clutching fear. it is time to resist the hot, liquid rage
searing my eyelids like rain on a pane. it is time to
treasure every failure & slip that shows briefly
the kind, shining truth. last night my friend
became drunk for the first time, kept laughing
& eating fake flowers. she was sobbing
& smiling & calling my name, saying,
oh esther, i love you. i do.
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