LOVE Poem: A Single Word, by Zac Yonko

I tell my wife I love her,
and I tell the pizza delivery guy
I love pizza,
but we all know
the love I have for my wife
is not the same as the love
I have for a large, cheese-laden slice
that arrives with a crackling box
and the promise of melted joy.

I could sit for hours
debating the merits of love
in the languages that know more than one word—
Greek with its agape, eros, and philia,
each kind of love neatly boxed
and given its own name
like a set of fine wines,
distinct and deserving of their own glass.

But English,
with its single, wide-armed word—
love,
that catch-all phrase
that cradles everything from the warmth
of a summer evening
to the warmth of a pepperoni-covered crust—
is a little less precise.
It’s like a coat that fits everyone,
but doesn’t always flatter.

Why is it that we are left
to explain the difference
with our eyes or our tone,
gesturing toward a deeper meaning
that love alone can’t hold?
Is it some historical oversight,
the English language too busy
inventing other things—
like the lightbulb and the internet—
to bother with a more nuanced word for affection?

I love my wife,
and I love pizza.
But if I said that in Greek,
perhaps I would have said eros
for my wife’s beauty and touch,
and philia for the friendly, familiar embrace
of pizza on a Friday night,
a love that fills the belly
but can’t compare to the way my heart
beats a little faster
when I see her standing by the door.

Maybe we need more words,
more ways to say the things
that can’t quite be captured
in a single syllable.
Or maybe, just maybe,
we should let love
be the only word that matters
and let the rest of the world
catch up