When I wrote your name in my diary,
I wanted those letters to know me.
Your hands were every stranger’s hand
I’d never hold. When I was a girl,
I learned how to love by loving.
Sequentially I loved all the boys
in the schoolyard, on the seesaw,
under the trees because
little girls learn alphabetically:
we are an ancient race
of little, fetal teenage people
and all of our troubles are real.
Copyright 2017 | Pet Murmur