things they won’t tell you but should:

by d. e. fulford

          you can fall in love with the same person over & again

love is ugly

          you can look away too fast & replace all that cherry joy

love is a soggy tea stain on a grocery receipt

          you can take them home but they won’t know you then

love is watching your labrador sleep & one day his chest won’t rise

          you can scribble every poem they will never read

love is driving the rental car over san franciscan hills

          you can ignore suggestions but know this is happening

love is

          no, it isn’t

d. e. fulford is a writer, editor, and English instructor. She has a Doctor of Education and has masters degrees in both creative writing and education. Her poetry chapbook, southern atheist: oh, honey, is available from Cathexis Northwest Press. Other poems and lyrical essays can be found in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Longridge Review, Blood Pudding Press, Indolent Books, Dreamers Magazine, Crosswinds Poetry Journal, Sunspot Literary Journal, and many more.

She resides on the front range of the Rocky Mountains with her partner Levi and their chocolate Labrador, The Walrus. In her spare time, she can be found riding her Triumph Street Twin motorbike, attending live music shows, and advocating for conversations about topics that make us squirm. Find her website here.