starts with soft snores.
thunder small enough
to be kept in jars.
i know what it’s like to be laying
next to you memorizing
your breath, so i can tease
you about it and we can laugh
together in the morning.
is that love? is it love when
you tease me about my clumsiness?
at this point, you have stopped
snoring. somewhere there is fire.
somewhere someone is hurting.
tonight, it is not us. tonight,
we are listening to the sirens
fade. tonight, they carry
their news somewhere else
and love is a little more urgent
when the background music is sirens.
—José Olivarez, Poet

I’ve never seen this poem before, and I doubt I’ll ever see it again unless it’s archived forever in pinkgingerale

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Northern VA native, currently living in Dallas, TX. I love my husband, my family, and eating my food with lots of dipping sauces. I started Pinkgingerale in 2009 as a way of sharing my thoughts, photos, and life with people around the world. Today I continue with a vision of inspiring people through my life journey, and belonging to a community of story-tellers.

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