ARDOR Literary Magazine

ARDOR Literary Magazine - Issue One, Jan. 2013

Issue One, Published January 2013

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Page 55 of 73

HUMMINGBIRD Poetry by NIDHI ZAKARIA EIPE I want to be in a band with a crazy name because on Ashbury in 1982, you stopped me by the poster of the boys playing in the bar that Sunday and said "Ingenious"-- and I'd like to be. The kind of person that comes up with ideas for paper clips and olive pitters, toasters and carabiners, the kind of person who could walk out on a stage to hands and voices, flames and eyes all raised above the swell of a chanting ocean--faces lit like Christmas-- and sing. And still: the kind of person who does not forget to pick the kids up after school, replace the roll of tissue in the bathroom, or pause to bring the washing in before the rain. I'd like to be. The man who did not betray you in a moment of vain weakness, but rather--someone with integrity, which is to say I would do the right thing even when no one was watching. That I could be someone who would be good enough for you, sitting now across from me, ten years to the day, you, bone-white fingers, blood-red hair, eyes as wide as my desire, your tiny hands circling a mouth of glass like birds caught in a storm, as if its hum could shield you from the pain and all the words crowding for space in my mouth like wisdom teeth come in too late. You, adrift on that dark continent of loss, reeling in the only truth that you can find, you look at me and say-- so simple it/s an outrage-- There's no such thing as good enough. Just be good. It is enough. *We recommend reading poetry with proper formatting*

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