Even though I share a collection of written poems I love each month, I somehow missed my curated February installment! The past month has gone by quicker than I can imagine, and spoken word pieces were just the ones I gravitated to more (hence the Button Poetry post). As usual, I’ve been reading written poems about love (because are there any other topics to write poems about? I think not) and my selection of poems in March focuses on the distinct longing that occurs in specific love relationships. My favorite piece in this collection is the first one featured: “How the Stars Understand Us” by Christopher Gilbert (perhaps one of my favorite poems ever) because it so genuinely illustrates an intimate scene between two lovers in the midst of physical affection. Gilbert’s narrative is so visceral that it feels like we as readers are right there next to the couple. I wrote a poem like this one (not featured in my poems in March of course) in December and maybe one day I’ll share it with you all. “Unacknowledged Pollinators” by Fady Joudah is sweet like the promise of childhood discoveries or love that lasts. Christina Correa’s “A Study in Eventuality” and “Home” by Tiphanie Yanique are the darker pieces in March that I love. They each, in different ways, describe a significant loss where the former spotlights a single moment and the latter utilizes a larger metaphor. “To O.E.A.” by Claude McKay (one of my most beloved poets!) is the most romantic ode written only as McKay could. While a love poem such as this could fall flat or quickly become cliché, the visuals in McKay’s piece avoid such an easy result. Justin Phillip Reed’s “What’s Left Behind After A Hawk Has Seized A Smaller Bird Midair” felt almost too relevant when I first read it. Reed’s poem-long comparison between toxic love and large-scale predators is poetry at its finest and most perfect. I had to throw in an auditory poem because Sarah Kay reading “On This the 100th Anniversary of the Sinking of the Titanic, We Reconsider the Buoyancy of the Human Heart” by Laura Lamb Brown-Lavoie is everything to me. The piece is long and unique in its almost conversational language, but the mid-section throughout the ending hit me in the gut and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.