Sunday, March 3, 2013

34 Excuses for Why We Failed At Love

34 Excuses for Why We Failed at Love
by Warsan Shire

10. We covered the smell of loss with jokes.

12. You made the nomad in me build a house and stay.

23. I cut him out at the root, he was my favorite tree, rotting, threatening the foundations of my home.

27. You’re the song I rewind until I know all the words and I feel sick.

30. We emotionally manipulated one another until we thought it was love.

34. I belong deeply to myself.


Note: Listen to this poem. 

Want


Want
by Joan Larkin

She wants a house full of cups and the ghosts
of last century’s lesbians; I want a spotless
apartment, a fast computer. She wants a woodstove,
three cords of ash, an axe; I want
a clean gas flame. She wants a row of jars:
oats, coriander, thick green oil;
I want nothing to store. She wants pomanders,
linens, baby quilts, scrapbooks. She wants Wellesley
reunions. I want gleaming floorboards, the river’s
reflection. She wants shrimp and sweat and salt;
she wants chocolate. I want a raku bowl,
steam rising from rice. She wants goats,
chickens, children. Feeding and weeping. I want
wind from the river freshening cleared rooms.
She wants birthdays, theaters, flags, peonies.
I want words like lasers. She wants a mother’s
tenderness. Touch ancient as the river.
I want a woman’s wit swift as a fox.
She’s in her city, meeting
her deadline; I’m in my mill village out late
with the dog, listening to the pinging wind bells, thinking
of the twelve years of wanting, apart and together.
We’ve kissed all weekend; we want
to drive the hundred miles and try it again.