May 30, 2023 - “No More Poetry or Any of Our Differences” by Rahil Najafabadi

NO MORE POETRY OR ANY OF OUR DIFFERENCES

I wake up one morning and I think of my promise,
that today is nothing more. An extension of sunny
despair, it’ll be a little more than the rain and salt.
It is in between looking at the same painting of Monet,
and seeing my favorite sculpture in different bodies.
The water tastes the same as the day I kissed every word––
Those love letters live in the air as you speak of me.
What I need is less wood, I can stand and write to you.
Just eliminate any comfort that seats me away from the run,
the hunt and queue of being next to you as you read me.
No more poetry but the thing that needs to be said,
whether anyone hears it or takes it to sleep. Any of our
differences could be the flower that makes it to my tea.
Taste the honey with me, it’s enough to fill a vase.