I have heard it said that poetry is strategic absence.
Yet you fill all these spaces
and still I call this
a love poem.
red wine and Love Jones
a butterfly perched on a rose,
a pause, a breath
Silence warm as honey whiskey,
sunlight streaming through an open window,
a droplet of dew balanced on a blade of grass,
the comfort of your fingers laced through mine.
Ella and Louis together on vinyl,
dreaming a little dream.
I want to sing love from the rooftops,
although this is not my lyric I.
I like to think that this is
my diary I,
the I that I keep for myself,
and the I that I share with you.
I love you every day.
Every day, I learn to love
a little bit more.
The warmth of your smile,
the cool of the piano’s black keys,
the song of your laughter,
and the dance of your fingertips down my spine.
I love you shea-butter-soft
I love you like harmony loves melody
and paint loves the brush.
And I know I’m not really an artist.
But all this is love.
And love is generative.
So even now, I am creating.
I love you
Ethan Thayumanavan is an aspiring poet of Indian descent, from Amherst, Massachusetts. He is a full-time student at Columbia University. His exploration of poetry began when he joined a collegiate spoken word poetry team, but his love for the written word has influenced his transition from performance to writing.