Art by Zed van der Linden

“Mild Love Seeks Soft Songs”
Line by Roman Poet Propertius

          I

I always had pancakes ready
by ten and she’d run over
to the fridge for some “Pearl
Milling” cold syrup.
She washed her hands
right after the last bite
to avoid that “bullshit sticky”
feeling.

          II

It didn’t matter if my parents
were around every time
you put on that strawberry-flavored
lipstick from that expensive pink
package I would
steal a kiss to taste on my lips
both the fruit, and your love.

          III

She would shampoo my hair
while I traced her edges with
white soap in my fingertips;
it didn’t matter if the water
was boiling we were one
under the beam of the skylight.
She was a painting. Her golden
hair kept shimmering
as we held each other under
a blanket in the dead of night.

          IV

Siempre se me hicieron raras
esas lagrimas cuando me dejaste
en el aeropuerto
de vuelta a Bogotá.
Ahora entiendo que aunque
me dejaste pensar que nos veríamos
en dos semanas
esa seria la ultima
vez que vi tus ojos.
Al final tuve la razón,
bebe, todo termina
con un malparido viaje
por carretera.

          V

It never stops snowing
in Pennsylvania.
Our clothes are soaked.
And our skin is wet.
While we wipe the blood
off our hands from sledding
the last snowflakes
drip onto your mother’s monochrome
carpet. You look at me and ask
is this what life is supposed to be about?
but I’m here
thinking the world would be better off as just a
word—