“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.