Love Poems

Ten years ago, I told my cousin, Khaled—

West Bank cologne salesman,

aspiring chicken factory farm owner—

I’d come back in six months.

I embarrassed him once,

accidentally revealing to his mother

that he wrote love poems on Facebook.

I didn’t know it was a secret he kept from her.

The sunken look of betrayal he gave me,

seated side by side on squeaky computer chairs,

is the same look I imagine he has when

he thinks of me now. It’s the look I give myself.