This, Too, Is Love
She skims through my resume, her eyes aimingFor any error there-in to find. Her index finger
Going line by line every title, subheading
And bulletpoint. This, too, is love.
I drive through the many littered streets
Of Kathmandu, cursing bikes, cars and buses,
Swerving by potholes and idiot drivers
Just to pick her up. This, too.
We've made a schedule and sorted days
For cooking and cleaning. Laundry too.
As well as groceries and walking the dog.
This, too. This, too. This, too.
Poetry by Sameen
Read 24 times
Written on 2026-01-04 at 01:56
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