I Like the Way
by Greg Sendi

  
I like the way you baby talk the cat.
I like your way with crockpotting and pie.
I like you in that red knit winter hat.
I like it that you keep a birder guide nearby.

I like the way you’ll bear the blackest grudge
against whatever crosses you some way—
like full-on fatwas on some kind of fudge
or lightbulb type or Timothée Chalamet.

I like the way you cannot think a thing
and not say it out loud—as if, unless
it finds some nest outside, it snaps a wing,
and spasms in a pit. I mean, I guess,

	I like the ways you secret your duress.
	I like the scent you get when you’re a mess.