minutia_r

I don’t understand poetry
It isn’t safe like money
or vents
or the silly little people in the computer who shoot lightning
and cause him to shake the desk in victory
and grin from ear to ear

But you tell me how to make spanakopita
while you finish your tray
and carry it
to him while he argues about whether that was a cheap shot
and you cause him to sit still
and smile up at you so softly

And you tell me how to break someone’s wrist

And you tell me how to break the door
that is keeping him from me

And you tell me how to NOT break his heart

And you tell me
You tell me
It isn’t safe
But that I might want it anyway

-

I think you are poetry
I think you are safe like money
or vents

But even if you aren’t I want
to set crème brûlée on fire
with you
I want us to all be silly little people in the computer who shoot lightning
and make cheap shots
while we try not to grin

I want you to tell me how to make rope out of grass

I want you to tell me how to plate a meal
so I can do it for you

I want you to tell me how to NOT break your heart

I want to understand poetry

Will you tell me?