Okay, we didn’t work, and all
memories to tell you the truth aren’t good.
But sometimes there were good times.
Love was good. I loved your crooked sleep
beside me and never dreamed afraid.

There should be stars for great wars 
like ours. There ought to be awards
and plenty of champagne for the survivors. 

I forget the reason, but I loved you once, 
remember? 

Maybe in this season, drunk
and sentimental, I’m willing to admit
a part of me, crazed and kamikaze, 
ripe for anarchy, loves still.

-One Last Poem For Richard, S. Cisneros