by Lucia Leao

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.

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Lucia Leao is a Brazilian-American translator and writer. She has a master’s degree in Brazilian literature from UERJ (Rio de Janeiro, Brazil) and a master’s degree in print journalism from University of Miami. Her poems in English have been published in the South Florida Poetry Journal and in Chariton Review.