Khareen’s Reviews > Morning in the Burned House: Poems > Status Update

If she were here she would
reach out her arms towards
you now, and touch you
with her absent hands
and you would feel nothing, but you would be
touched all the same.

if I clutch at my heart and scream in horror
like a third-rate actress chewing up a made scene,
I do it in private and nobody sees
but the bathroom mirror.

This form of love is like the pain
of childbirth: so intense
it's hard to remember afterwards,
of what kind of screams and grimaces
it pushed you into.

But it's love that does us in.