What was At The Bottom of The Pot
for Tia Clarke

want to write you a short love poem
I've written you a long one, in my notebook still
must type and polish it

heart and soul and all, I wish to push in a short one

want to push love into you, hadn't in a long time
you must be as starved as I am

reading through your poems, I hadn't in a long time
like returning home

intense what I feel for you, what you feel for me
if I'm allowed to guess

the need to be tender, to be sensitive,
a mutual demand as well, as well as a desire shared

want to share an ice cream cone together
lick it until it was all gone, let not one drip waste

want to share a bowl of hot soup, spoon for spoon
until it was empty

want to get to the bottom of why your chest hurts
chest ache you say you have suffered from for years

I am jealous of your chest pains
how near your heart they are, closer to you than I am
able to take a life I long to save

how madly in love I am, have been for ages now
evening I saw you first, exposed yourself to public gaze
to public stare

who able to see more deeply, more purely than another poet,
this other poet, hungry for companionship

empathy enough, admiration enough for a few life times

fear I am unable to love you enough
with arms tied to my sides, through the glass in prison
which separates

not enough to fit our palms together, with the glass dividing us
to break through, to break out, grip you up
rip off what I must for us to be together after forced to be apart

want to feel your heart beating against my own
our two bodies bare, you up in the air

are you ready to tear, ready for tears, Tia
I am ready to burst into tears of joy
happy to be alive as I never was or dreamed I'd be

want to love you, have you before you die, before I do


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
6:40 a.m. 07.09.09