Concrete Poetry
   of Modern Love

  The
  day after
 an   ill-fated
  second   date,    I called my   little  brother as
    I
   lay   in   bed,   despondent,
   in  my
   dingy  college   apartment.  “I    don’t  have  time to come  home     and  do   laundry   today,”
 I
   said.  “Oh, and    I  met  someone.”   My   brother,
     Felix, listened  quietly   to  my    inventory  of  hesitations:
 She liked    me   more  than   I  liked  her.  She   wanted commitment. She lived   around  the    block,  and
 I    really   didn’t want  to   hurt   her.  A pause.   My  brother
  said,   “You
      have
 time    for  one load.     I’ll  come get   you.”   His
   pragmatic,    gentle   love
  is  just   right. —  Ione  Madsen Hardy