Will you love me if I have no job to support you?
Yes, I will love you. We’ll eat potatoes and beans off paper
plates. We’ll take walks instead of drives. We’ll wear the same
clothes six days a week and on the seventh day we’ll stand
naked while our clothes soak in the sink.
Will you love me if I have no home to protect you?
Yes, I will love you. We’ll live in the woods in the summer
and eat wild berries and cook rabbit and squirrel on a spit.
We’ll migrate south in the winter and sleep on the beach. We’ll
fish off piers during the day and raid the citrus groves at night.
Will you love me if I have no legs to walk with you?
Yes, I will love you. I will construct a vehicle made of used
swing set and bicycle parts, and make it for two. We’ll swing
and ride together looking like street performers. People will
toss us money for making them smile.
Will you love me if I have no arms to hold you?
Yes, I will love you. I will feed you, wipe you, bathe you,
scratch you. I will wrap my legs in plastic and keep my arms
at my sides, and we’ll shimmy like newborn tadpoles in
abandoned swimming pools.
Will you love me if I have no tongue to say I love you?
Yes, I will love you. We’ll communicate by butterfly kiss, a
Morse code scratch-scratch on each other’s cheek. A wriggle
of the nose for yes, an arch of an eyebrow for no. Our silence
will speak volumes.
Will you love me if I die and can no longer be with you?
Yes, I will love you. Perhaps more than ever because my love
will need to be that much stronger in order to reach you. And I
will keep loving you for as long as it takes, so when I die we
can find each other again.
—Kurt Newton’s poetry, fiction, and all things in between have appeared in a variety of venues including Vine Leaves, Grasslimb Journal, and Empty Sink Publishing. Kurt’s early influences include Maurice Sendak, Edward Gorey, and Dr. Seuss. He lives in Connecticut.