Blood Draw
With a needle in her hand
pointing at your frail little arm,
tiny blue veins like hair strands on a birch twig,
the nurse asks me—
but do you speak proper English to him?
The interspersed meu amor,
tá tudo bem,
in between the tug of my lips
and a deafening silence in proper English,
the words I speak translate the longing
that you will someday
feel like this double life has been worth it—
tell me sim, eu amei.
