A Poem About Cement and Me

By Jem Morgenstern

The cement
has more personality than I do
because its history is vocalized

It's strong and present
the water stains
the cracks
the gum

Mine is internal

It's swallowed and drowning
in my stomach
the intestines
the cracks
the crevices

I hoard my words
as if they're more valuable
inside of me
than outside
to be eaten by the people
who are hungry
for my words
and my presence

Shallow Beaches

Shallow Beaches 
-LB
Explain: why listening to you worry about the state of the world—you cover climate change, presidential elections, academic strains, starvation (beginning in the first person), and career goals in a matter of minutes—and watching your hope deflate and despair consume you in your particular ease, nonchalance, and embracing way makes me want to believe that it will all actually be okay.

Explain: why these things I never cared about suddenly make me tremor and all I want to do is know everything, learn everything, fix everything, or maybe just fix you dinner and listen to you talk and never stop listening and listen to you sing if you sing because I think that you sing and I don't care if you listen to Bieber—which is big for me because things like that have always mattered to me in the most gravely important way—or if your voice sounds like screeching but I'd probably prefer that over the slow nervous warmth in your voice that matches the blue in your eyes that makes me crumble and smile without meaning to in the most high school girlish way (and I don't admit that proudly).

Explain: why the structure of your mind—or maybe lack thereof—is a hug to my tired, dark heart, and why it's been ready to leap on any collection of words for once that aren't my own or that one person's whose name is no longer claimed, but yours, and why every time I read your thoughts spewed out on the page I want to write more of my own, I want to believe that I can.
Explain why: it's 3:00 a.m. and I'm still thinking about that dinner—can I make you a vegetarian lasagna? Are you opposed to vegetarians? Do you have a secret affinity for Elsa and that stupid-looking snowman? Is it frightening to you in an I-don't-understand-it-so-I'm-either-going-to-overinstate-my-"masculinity"-or-just-try-to-avoid-it-at-all-costs sort of way that some men wear dresses and like other men or some people are just people who don't identify as either / or, just want to be seen as people? All these things and more I should learn before I make you dinner, I suppose, but I guess I just assumed that all the answers must be the answers I wanted because my previous paragraphs can't seem to be explained in any other way. Well, that and your hair falls just perfect and your eyes glimmer the dreamiest shade of blue.