I would read Us over and over
til the corners of every page
fold like my dog’s ear,
one up, one down,
and every sweet nothing is
underlined, color-coded,
anthologized in the back.
Hiding under the blanket
with my childhood flashlight,
I would read Us over and over,
trying a mouthful of your
words on my tongue.
Salt, wooded citrus, coffee,
perhaps just glue and mold,
but the pages trick my nose.
I would read Us over and over—
even though I know how it ends.