Letter to the Man I Love

I get so damn mad at you

My plate is often full, heaping and overflowing,

I don’t even know what half of this shit is

And here you come with your giant ladle

Of need to do, need to be, priorities please

Dump it right on top: a mockery of cherries

To my face, crumbling; to my arms, shaking under the weight

You just say, Figure it out

You’re always applying pressure for the high

standard you hold this family to

It makes me so proud

Finding more room, over and over again,

Where I thought was a sure end

My capacity is revealed little by little

One extra task, one stretch, one firm push in the back

You make me a better person

You’ve taught me that a deep stretch

Is not the same as a break

And if it comes to breaking, welcome

To the opportunity to build it better than before

You keep me frustrated, never complacent, hungry

You never let me do anything less than more

than what I thought I could do before.

Eventually, thank you.