by A. Shaikh
I wasn’t looking for love, like a hosta growing
unguarded in the neighbor’s yard. I just craved belief.
I moved here for the poem, never expecting to stick
around for the song. So I drank the mirage
from where all saints are named. Let her name be a trick
quick to damage. Summer dried, students scattered,
storefronts changed and I remained surprised
when she left, like most people do,
with the same tepid reasons — her Saturn return,
the ever increasing rental rate. Still, in her absence,
you stayed, greeting me like a better lover. Every week,
something revealed to make memory beautiful —
verdant hamachi crudo, a dark satiny Negroni,
fast marbled games of mancala, blue outlines
of heron, the trapeze-like thrill in conquering
bar trivia, evenings dazed with new beloveds
who don’t bargain time, the buzz of
your body tenderly unearthing us. It’s definite now.
Of all the places I’ve touched,
you’ve become the most loved.
Listen to the poem here:
Photo credit: C. Finch
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A. Shaikh is a queer immigrant poet who spends their days as a public benefits paralegal advocating for low income residents in Washtenaw County. This poem is devoted to some of their favorite places (and forever recommendations) in Ann Arbor – Gallup Park, Peridot, Hidden King, and Ashley’s – which have lately offered them much-needed respite. They live in Ann Arbor with their novelist spouse and four monochrome cats.
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This is an original poem, brought to you by Poet Tree Town, a Washtenaw-based poetry-in-public initiative and celebration of local poets. Find out more about Poet Tree Town on Instagram and Facebook, or say hello at [email protected].
