Can I tell you everything?

If you are an animal who roars in my face 

or shrinks and cowers like a mouse;

If you paint rose gardens, 

or uncover bones with tiny brushes,

or mow lawns;

If you drink and curse and rage like a monster

or tenderly love, and fear your God;

I could even hate you,

It won't be hard:

Can I just tell you every sorry, sparkling thing?

And then--then you tell me

every single little thing,

All your joy and every darkness.

Everything, everything, everything, and I will listen hard for days

Until your lungs run out of breath.

Our throats exhausted,

Bedridden tangles in our hair will explain our mission 

when they find us locked in a sad, silent spell 

of the only thing left to do: care.