Duty is such an inelegant word

for something like love.

I trick open the page, every day,
penciling bread and noodles 
onto the list. Take out the garbage
when it’s full. 

Bears, perhaps, are made to be

solitary, but humans? We learn
to answer when something calls
our name.

Some people believe in love

languages. I’m a giver-of-gifts,
but myself? I don’t want anything
tangible.

This is/is not
a kind of weakness.