Should I have observed
how “pain” resembles
Latinate words
for “bread?” Should I
target an older audience?
Should I have bought
diamond-studded boots?
Should I smuggle
kisses under the radar?
Should I have stood
on the lip of a ledge
no one could see?
Should I sing your
mother’s name from
a mountaintop? Or
pour it into my coffee?
Or embroider it into
my pillowcases? Should
I claim that Euclid’s tears
fell crooked? Should I
have prayed to better gods?
Should I stare at the
window until people take
interest? Should I have
interviewed a stranger?
Should I sniff out trust
like a truffle hog? Should I
tell the sick from the dead?
Should I have cataloged
the items you left? Must
I display my affection
like a river tern?
Liv Lansdale studies fiction and sustainable development at Columbia University. She can often be found in the East Village, talking strangers into choosing wind energy providers over gas and electric. She divides her time between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade.
Should. A word we might be better served without. But that’s just a singular voice that dislikes being told one should.