Lizzy Burnam 🐞

Every day I make a little time to love: 
the first kiss of the uncarpeted floorboard 
on my bare feet, 
the brown egg cracked in the pan 
and changed by the heat, 
the crunchy tips of the plants 
I sometimes forget to water. 
I love the early birds 
and the worms they eat. 
I love the 1-2-3 waltz 
of the cars at the intersection
and the homeless man 
with his cardboard sign that says, 
“smile, motherfuckers, 
that you don’t live on the street.” 
When it snows, I stay inside 
to love the gentle embrace 
of my red satin sheets
and the dry wind of artificial heat. 
In the summertime, I hike 
up the same mountain every week 
to watch the lizards ripple 
like radio waves away from me
and I say to them the same thing 
I say to each crooked branch 
on all the sun-leaning trees: 
I love you. I leaf through every page 
of the books whose conclusions
I’ve long since forgotten
and wholeheartedly, I love them too. 
It’s not the heart-locking, 
shackle-rattling acquiescence 
everyone makes it out to be, 
and I'm not scared.
I'm not scared to love 
even those who are still 
too scared to love me. 
It’s as easy as falling asleep
after three days of dragging your weight 
from the wrong side 
of the bed to the right side 
of unwavering belief. 
I love the faded ink in my skin 
and the soft edges 
of my anxiety-ground teeth. 
I love the train wreck it took to get here 
and I love the train wreck 
I’ll again someday be. 
If we weren’t built to love 
every dirty inch of the finite world 
in our finite lives we get to see, 
then why would the midday sky 
be so fatally blue and the juicy bite 
of the orange be so cool 
and so overwhelmingly sweet? 
I love the unanswered wondering, 
the impetuous wandering, 
the tell-me-when’s and the maybe’s. 
I love the summer dresses 
that I lost in the move 
and the courage I found 
when the dead man taught me 
how to properly breathe. 
I love the warning croak of the raven
and the friendly whistle of the chickadee. 
I love the finger-drums 
on the steering wheel, 
the Spring sniffle 
and the uncovered sneeze. 
I love the loves I used to know 
and all the long-haired boys 
I’ll never get to meet.