Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

Each day I try to be less 

scared of where love will lead— 

what it will ask of me— 

fearing 

it will be misunderstood— 

fearing 

my tight hold onto love’s hand 

will be loosened… 

by the translation of it.  

See how it tugs against being named— 

being tied and tamed.  

I feel one day the only hand held 

will be my own, 

and that frightens me 

most of all— 

but perhaps it is my self 

I should grasp 

first 

more  

than  

any other 

thing