Love Poem

Hope Gangloff, “Ma Po Times” (2008), acrylic on canvas.

All I do nowadays is love badly. I admit this because I am only 

trying to be honest. When I text Z about his gap year I’ve stopped 

asking the question how is your life going but what is really happening to us. 

I swallow up all my love letters when X called me the name of his 

dead brother. In this way I lie, in this way I am hiding. I watch 

a movie where the main character asks the question is it better to speak 

or to die and I can’t seem to find an answer. In the film, BOY #1 

chooses to speak. In the end, BOY #1 dies from heartbreak. I don’t know 

whether it’s genius or Cliché. The theater claps when the movie ends. 

The man next to me sheds a tear. When I finally get cellular service 

outside the BlackBox Y tells me about how boring his life is & asks

why are you the only one left texting me & I can’t find an answer anywhere

except for the distance. The miles stretching into kilometers

between us. I have always wanted to become an empire.