By the Way

By: Arel Kirshstein

I think I’m gay.

There’s not much more to say.

It’s honestly no big deal:

I’m still the same person

with whom you bustled in steamy

kitchens of platonic love. Back then,

I thought I loved how your cheeks

burned red from our flurry to and fro,

near our oven’s fire. Back then,

You hated the turmeric

turning hands yellow, but I loved

its rich semblance of saffron

against simmered tomato. Back then,

your long black curly hair,

unevenly dusted white

with powdery flour, caught

specks of sticky dough. Back then,

your feminine almond eyes

were the only eyes I could see;

except now they do nothing for me,

but bud the occasional almond tree.


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