WHEN MY MOTHER ASKS

when my mother asks

if the two day old sushi is still alright for lunch
i say let's be better
than two day old sushi

and i wonder

if the fact that i state with utter confidence
that our life has been profound
that obviously you're the one

is not just as much
a declaration about deserving the real thing
as it is a promise

but you don't ask questions anymore or punctuate my messages with cowboy hat emojis
you ignore my witty repartee
and aren't exactly demanding updates on all the things
that are keeping my heart beating

every exchange four hours late

or two days early

the laces on my shoes are drawn too tight
and i totter at the edge of your dark abyss with my toes dangling in
a four year old at goldfish level swim class, tendrils dripping
saltwater mingling with and exhilaration and terror
painted toenails
allowing hope and sheer determination to buoy
and rationalize an obvious potential disaster

because being loved
by you
felt like the air turning in concert to beats off something that dropped just this second
tangible delirium
giggling, ingenious,
bloating my belly
adorned with rainbow stickers and fly as all hell

i am a master of sustaining starvation

many miles to travel on just a quarter tank
is something i’m endlessly willing to determine doable

but not good enough
is not good enough
any way you microwave it
warmed over day old coffee
is hot
and not better than no coffee at all