A Love Poem

You say it's been awhile
since I've written you a love poem--
post-its on the spotted bathroom mirror
don't count, I know.
I want to protest and give you this
written proof
of my love,
tell you I write you poems all the time,
show you a shoebox full of inked paper,
but you're right.
It has been awhile.

In between cooking dinner--
orange chicken for couples with
"Perrier tastes on a tap water budget"
(and baby, that's us),
I sit and try to write
but the brown rice burns
and the oven timer beeps,
and is there, in the midst of all this,
time for
Love?

My only answer is
yes. Oh yes.
I water the plants and I read,
I stoop to kiss you.
This is enough.
Or how about this?
The way you fold into me
after we've spent the better
part of the night
rolling,
out of breath,
asking for more,
and asking for it harder.
The fit of you to me
is near perfect.

So, this is the love poem
you've been needing,
two years of Sundays later.
Low-lit evenings with dinner,
and a Love thicker than the blood
pushing through these tiny veins.

**********

This weekend, I sent out 18 different poems to 6 literary journals. I have never done this before. I am not expecting much, but it's a hell of a lot better than saying, "Next weekend is when I will start sending out stuff."