Loving you is driving without
directions: my hands shake
from the fear of wanting you
and knowing all roads end. If
my heart had a wheel, I would
grip it like your body in my
hands. We are headlights after
dark, hearts beating with a
blinker metronome. We are
no dead ends, never reflecting
in the rearview, no stop signs.
We are charting a course to
our private parking lot so we
can hold each other between
the seats and navigate to every
destination. But even through
our tinted windows, I am unable
to forget this: every love story
leaves roadkill on the shoulder.
Translated into French by Daniel González:
Poem and translation originally published in volume VIII of the Translate Iowa Project's Boundless magazine (p. 36-37, 2024) at the University of Iowa.
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