you are a multiverse
you are Persian which means you
are beautiful you described
a universe in which each point
is its own universe and it made
me cry for being so beautiful
my points are just points
sharp and always poking
each other you have so much
hair it gathers in the lowest point
of my bed my body is a container
you try to explain abstract
concepts i try to study the geometry
of your curls i sit cross legged
my toes pointed at me as if
to say i’m with stupid
murmuration
i keep picking things up and putting them
down oh windowsill oh spice rack im in love
with the strange noise the refrigerator is making
i wear a large sweater and apply lotion and see
myself through yourself watching myself
roll tights
over my thighs on the train in my head also
you are rolling yourself over me you are not
like others with their plastic bags
made of other plastic bags you make
flowers
out of milk my steam into foam
you bookmark books
with other books you make whiskey
disappear
in that mouth that says i just
want to be honest you make me want
to hold a fish in my hands
my dream in fun shirts you dream
in uncoordinated colors i dream
you are a fish on a bed of starry ice my super
market treasure my insane saturday new york
avenue hand in the crowd my confusing cafe
companion do we order at the counter? you are
the only one
making sense at this dumb party
the strangest
of non-strangers there is so much to discover
like have you seen my tiny bird
collection? and what i did think
of your chili i just want to be honest
and i want you when the day comes
after the quiz the deadline the coffee shop
shift
when we can eat a complicated breakfast
together on a Sunday afternoon and
and watch clouds disappear
from the tap water
and into starlings
Allison Becker lives in Brooklyn, works at Housing Works and a coffee shop, and seriously loves poodles.