Photo by Phillip Goldsberry on Unsplash
after Steven Universe
Your hand grazing the side of my thigh
during zoom meetings? Your fingers kissing circles
into my shoulder while coworking
on the couch? Your teeth, pristine and sitting
next to my cheek every morning? I lay
my millions of kisses on your forehead
and remember: love is a gross understatement
of the feeling we cultivate. Even if it had
multiple names, it would never amount to the smell
lingering on all of your clothes that I wear
on days when you must leave me.
I want to bottle this up & gift it to every stranger
I meet. I’d tell them “This is what saves us.
This is what fusions aspire to be.” If this has
a name, it is green.
KB is a poet, essayist, and cultural worker from Texas. They are the author of How To Identify Yourself with a Wound (Kallisto Gaia Press, 2022) and Freedom House (Deep Vellum Publishing, 2023). Follow them online at @earthtokb.
