I can count on one hand the people
who’ve called me “darling” in a kind way,
and, it occurs to me now, that

none of them were sleeping with me
or were related to me. They have
all been women older than I

who, I imagine, had someone
in their lives who “darling’d”
them and are passing on

the endearment much in the way
I sometimes “sweetie” someone,
channeling the voice of my

much-older-than-I friend Julia Ellen
who used it to address my twenty-
something self (and others, I’m sure).

This is to thank the darling ones
who utter such old-fashioned
sentiments, often woman to woman,

which, when I hear it, mooshes
my insides in the best way,
a verbal hug from someone who

loves me, often for no good reason,
just because I breathe. And I send it
right back to them, the darlings,

with all my love.