As long as I called it loneliness,

it stayed small and domestic, cured by

hot baths, phone calls, and books

in bed. When I called it love,

it grew sharper and twisted. It lived

in my body, and scratched up small

pieces for its nest. When I called

it life, it damn near killed me,

striking right to the center. I think

I’ll take back its name

and give us both a chance.

From the Winter 1985 issue of Inquiring Mind (Vol. 2, No. 2)

Text © 1985–2023 by Rebecca Radner