It was the day you killed
the albatross
at the beach house
that my grandfather built
that I realized
you didn’t know
what love was.
I tried to teach you
but it was more than
you ever knew could be true
so you decided
it wasn’t.

It was the evening we spent
at your friend’s house
in West Seattle
playing dominoes
that you told me those people
were more family
than I’d ever be
because unlike them
I didn’t look
like you.
When you swore it was
as true
as you knew it could be
I drove away
deciding it was.



©Elle Wonders 2017