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A Sign Floats and Someone Sings
by Zach Linge

                  after Danez Smith
 
Because I can’t hold everything
at once, coffee, cigarette, book
of poems, your hand— daily
 
I decide what I want most.
It’s scientific: my dictionary
says people are classified
 
by specific behavior— the ability to plan
future action; to follow traditions;
and to use symbolic communication.
 
Because love is sadistic, I plan
how to hold on best. With a house.
With a therapist. With people
 
in recovery. Think of marriage— 
forbidden to love where we are not loved.
Don’t book leaves need adhesive
 
to bind to their spine?
Aren’t words applied wet,
then dry? I am sober now,
 
holding anything I’m permitted
to drink. What if it sticks? What if
I need a book with pictures?
 
Because I do, because I want more
than a symbol, anyone show me,
on the page, who’s been here before.
 
Where are they going? Somebody
is singing outside. She is outside
my house, literally singing, Love.
 
// We’ve got to love. If this
is a sign, I need someone
to tell me what it means.

Picture
​Zach Linge’s poems have appeared recently in New England Review, Poetry, Puerto del Sol, and elsewhere. Linge lives and teaches in Tallahassee, where they serve as Editor of the Southeast Review.

Spring 2020
ISSN 2157-8079
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