The Answer

I think you
and your words appear
a coincidence cultivated
by thinking you often

in the interim
I’ve been forgotten
a margin exaggerated

Altruistic negligence
my love at arms length
an abstract offering
made of me

I’m there for you
all you have to do is ask
question unknown
the story so far


I’d miss you more
if I could
love you more
if there were a way
to measure the meaning
of more

Qualitatively consume me
if it makes merit
feed on flesh
that sings your praise
I’ll lop a different love off
if you ask

Letters I’ve written
on what this love is like
I’d send them daily
if it made a difference
if it’s what you need

You said I was stupid
and I agreed
incapable of loving you more
whatever that means
incapable of loving you less
if only


His leg won’t let go
of that other place
the one on the end
of what used to be a line

Home in hand
his food turned fast
as half-hearted fork
fails to reach face

It makes me half-smile
impatience for a world
he can speak to
so very far away

The other half
a growing resentment
noise I know well
and my lack thereof