Among father's beer barrels and brother’s bikes,
Not until her anguish reaches a piteous pitchdo I open the door to receive her exuberant love,
those wet, whimpering kisses, that earnest scrambling
to crawl inside of me.
This is the love I crave as a child but find nowhere else
and so I stage it over and over and over again--
and not only then, but long after with boys
who try to love me.
I make their love clearly visible to me.