Leave Our Souls
for Tia

desire from her,
responses to my poems

impatient for responses
sulk when these
are not forthcoming

my poems of her
already from her

poems she sends
assume, are from me

though from my hand,
poems I pen down
her essence, her substance

these in my fist
when I imagine
it is my pen I grip

must grip gently
grip gentleness


© Obediah Micheal Smith, 2008
8:12 a.m. 26.01.08