Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2022  Vol.21  No. 1
an online journal of literature and the arts
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Platonic Love

I do my best to tolerate it because
unspent love is poison.
Sometimes, when I go in
for hugs on friends
I’m mad at,
I think
I can quantify love
at every place
it’s not shown,
wrap my arms
around and close
to a quiet crush of their bones,
a smooth break of vessels,
the rush of blood
where the skin splits
leaked into mugs and bowls,
and that perhaps,
I could tear my friend in two,
shake his halves loose,
drippings dropped
from the entrails as dirt
from plant roots.  

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