In Love Still
for Gina Lowe

am I desperate for a glimpse of her

though she is with child, another man's not mine
locked up, locked away in her
as securely as money in the volt of a bank

doors of the bank as well, closed
I'm in the ATM booth in this cold air

anyone who goes by inside turns my head

how surprisingly thirsty I am for a glimpse of her
for just one look of who is now, who was always
beyond my reach

pen I grasp is not Marie, is not she
whom I long to see, to behold, to squeeze

once I embraced her, too sweet treat
not because of this that she is large with child

I would have to have gotten closer
only the Holy Spirit
capable of impregnating a woman on earth
while still in heaven

what of my pen with which I write across a page
what can words convey
without disrobing, without getting into bed

how I envy who is close enough to her for sex
intimate enough to ejaculate
through her, into the future


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
4:23 p.m. 13.10.09