Three Poems by James Crews

Peace Offering

I don’t know what love is, but I
know how to peel a blood orange,
how to unravel the dimpled outer skin
then pick the pith from its pink flesh
and hand it off to the man I love.
Is love the need to give all we have
to someone else, this feeling that
if I don’t share the abundance, I’ll suffer
alone for the rest of my life? Earlier,
my husband sat in the living room,
silent because I had said something
that hurt him. Call this trucked-in orange
my make-up gift, my peace offering
still cold from the fridge, as solid
as a promise in the hand. I don’t know
how to stop failing at love, only that
failure’s the way to keep loving
as imperfectly as we all must, pressing
my lips against his clean, wet hair
and holding out the sections I have
peeled for him as if I grew them myself.

*

Joy

after Michael Simms

Joy is the stranger who won’t
take no for an answer, who
keeps knocking at the back door
no one uses, who doesn’t care
about the mud he tracks in
across pine floorboards
when you let him inside. Joy is
a slice of fresh-baked sourdough
slathered with salted butter
when you should be doing
your taxes, gathering receipts,
sipping herbal tea. Joy is
the laughter of a coffeepot
sputtering on the counter,
and a carton of cream tipped
into each cup. Joy is the friend
you haven’t seen in months,
perhaps even years, and he
presses his stubbled cheek hard
against yours when he says hello
so your whole body remembers.

*

Love What Comes

Add this to my list of small ecstasies:
the scent of pencils made from cedar,
wafting up as soon as I open the box
given to me by friends, the feel of real
graphite imprinting a notebook page.
And the crimson stubs of new peonies
I watered this morning, beginnings
of leaves and ruffled blooms all stored
inside a stem no larger than my thumb.
So much of what we imagine turns out
differently, swerves off-course. Why not
learn to love what comes as deeply as
the idea first held in our minds, like
a poem traced lightly in pencil, or a star-
shaped crocus pushing up through mulch,
both leaning toward a source of light
they can’t quite see, but know is there.

*

James Crews is the author of Unlocking the Heart: Writing for Mindfulness, Courage & Self-Compassion, and editor of several bestselling poetry anthologies, including Love Is for All of Us, a collection of LGBTQ+ love poems. He is also the author of four poetry collections and lives in Southern Vermont with his husband. For more info: www.jamescrews.net