you arrive and unpack
in the middle
of me.
In the kitchen, tea
labels you unglue, kid-wise,
unearthing the organic
flavors of fair-trade gardens.
I offer what I have,
basil, ginger, pink pepper,
and fizzy water,
the yellow kettle—
a fountain.
Your clothes unrest the sofa,
thinned jackets, gentle shoes,
multiple shapes of ties,
your exhibited emptiness
the space I can hug,
dispatch denials.