“Wife of Abraham, mother of Isaac...”

I find you in Genesis, and this is something obvious

(If you had been there. If you had only been here.)

I only wished

“I just wish we’d grown up

in the same house” 

and I don’t know how else to explain this.

“Princess” (how can you not see it? 

Why don’t you like your smile?) 

Other translations: “Noblewoman”

Noble, or like a first born son, or like,

Or like this first blooming, looming love, looming inevitably over my gay heart.

I can’t stop writing about something

if that something is a face 

I can’t stop seeing.

And they’re strangers,

And I eavesdrop,

Grateful just to hear

If they might pronounce their N’s

Or their color-soaked hearts,

The way you didn’t.