if i don’t say just the right words
in just the right way
will you still love me?
if i don’t back all the right causes
for all the right reasons
will you be my friend?
can we talk?
will you listen?
can we differ?
will you see something good in me,
and will you let me see the good in you?
what will it take to keep us from
tearing each other apart?
a bad poem that’s too direct?
i hope so; this qualifies.
you’re smarter than me;
believe me, i know that.
you probably think my beliefs are naïve,
certainly not helpful.
maybe we’re discovering together
the final frontier: the edge of pluralism—
a well for some, a cliff for others.
What is the meaning of this open grave:
a mouth to swallow the dead, or
a womb to bring forth eternal life?
here at the edge of pluralism
by troy cady