Poems About L

My grandfather had a shed. My father has a garage. I have a corner of the basement.

My grandmother's kitchen smelled like a country that no longer exists.

Missing someone is not an emotion. It's a location.

At first it was a guest. Showed up uninvited but charming.

O pizza, democratic miracle, flat parliament of toppings—you are the only food that has survived every argument about authenticity.

I will sit on your laptop at the worst possible time. I will bring you a dead bird and expect applause.

We said 'for richer or poorer' but we meant: I will eat gas station sushi with you at midnight and call it a date.

You have brains in your head. You have shoes on your feet. But here's what the Doctor forgot to explain.

You are leaving. I know this the way I know weather— not from the forecast

Someone told me once that poetry is for school. That it lives between September and June.

It's not the presents. I know it's not the presents because the best Christmas I ever had was the year we couldn't afford them.

He's not the one she imagined. She imagined someone with a plan.