By Annabel Lang
Volume 2//Poem

I love you in my arms

where I've carried you since childhood,

You leapt from a tree.

I caught you. We coincide. I've held you

not knowing what it is I hold on to.

What is a sister when there is nothing simple like blood to lie about?


I'm learning fidelity

to language. To trust words

not what words say

as an urn may carry water or ashes but we gather shards

to save men        glorious Grecian half-naked

etched black on clay skin


and our bodies may hide

any kinds of bones. We love a face

not thoughts we don't know.

So I will write you love letters and let love be

only the shape of the letters inside

the word love. This way as my arms open

may petals fall under your feet.