HummingbirdI wonder if people consider Earth a woman because she's so goodHummingbird by DashingAmerican
at being built on, walked on, taken advantage of
And I wonder if people consider Time a man because he's so good
at healing, at taking, at never giving a seconds thought.
I know that sometimes it rains when your rivers are already full
Rushing your riverbeds away, water never means to undermine you.
Water is just looking for a place to go, a current to follow, a cave to fill;
But wouldn't you rather be over-saturated than dry and cracked dehydrated?
Wouldn't you rather be the sustenance instead of being pawed, exfoliated
by a desperate wildebeest? But we are not nature depicted,
And then again, we are.
I don't apologize for the way a hummingbird finds his nectar,
long bill fishing between the petals, thirsty, because
we did that. We threw the line into the pond and the
fish were plenty and I do not apologize.
The First TimeThe first time I saw your shoulder,The First Time by DashingAmerican
peeking like a Muslim under her hijab,
I looked away, like I had never seen
a shoulder before, like I had never
wondered what secrets my lips would
find in the pockets of your collarbone.
The first time I saw your bellybutton,
I knew it'd be the most of you I'd ever see.
I knew you'd be chalked up as a loss,
like everyone's first kiss, like every
adult's young aspirations.
And though I never saw the parts of you,
hidden precariously under single layers,
I still saw you, more guarded than your
body's secrets, dipping your toes,
chipped green polish, into the trust
of another man.
Overwhelmed, I say, "I love you"
because I have too much of an
affair with my phone to articulate
what I'm really feeling.
And after I see your hand, for the
first time in years, grasping for
what we once were, I say it again,
"I love you," realizing that love
is a verb we're all misusing.