“How queer that we’re apart now,
at this final place
of white walls and deal desks
behind which you sit
and say to me, ‘You can’t see her, you’re not family,’
family? I will show you family
I will show you two in love
In ways which you can never understand
In your petty leather chair
I will show you us.
In an embrace on a sofa
In the final moments of a movie
I will show you happy sighs
I will show you lullabies
What will you show me?
You will show me paperwork
You will show me laws
You will show me meaningless things
You won’t show me love
I will show you knitted scarves
In secretly wrapped boxes
I will show you bedtime books read aloud
In our sweet voices.
I will show you happiness
In sharing a springtime sky
I will show you flowers on countertops
In glass vases and well-loved pots
I would show you all these things
What will you show me? It seems clear..
You will show me the door.
But which door will it be?”