“My Arms Are Weak” – Karen Byk Almendra

L. told me that many years ago and now I cannot lift the cardboard moving boxes. I do the same thing with you: I’m six years old again and I trust a man who explains that I’m a sweet girl. My girlfriends love each other. They kiss and they hug in decadent places and we don’t care that the roof is dripping or that people are throwing up all around us.   L., for example, assured me that she knows me for real, that I don’t need to seduce her. I believe her because all men want to save me when I have nightmares but none of them think that my poems are good. It’s different with L., I call her when I leave your place, she cries on my shoulder while I kiss her through her hair.   We know each other for real, so much that we can...