For hours today, I searched –
wanting poetry
that would wrap you up,
saying all the things I think
when I kiss you.
I looked in favorite zines and books,
read line after line of
word sculptures that said nothing
about me and you

I couldn’t find a love poem
that wasn’t about love
but about maybe-love,
almost-love,
might-turn-into-love-
if-things-go-on-like-this,
couldn’t find something that said
It’s Only Been A Few Weeks
And I’m Not Sure Yet
Might Not Be Sure For A Long, Long Time,
But This Feels Kinda Something Like
Falling In Love
(I Think)

I looked for a poem to say
I Want You
but not I Need You
to say I Like Having You Around
(holding hands in the car,
arguing over music,
eating greasy grilled cheese at 4 am,
then waking up entangled at noon)
while still saying I Like To Be Alone
(having time to read, bake,
sing along to bad country,
to be perfectly content waking up by myself)

I wanted a poem like a pocket
just the right size to hold us,
a poem that would capture
my arms around your waist,
the mix tape you made me,
how you don’t like tie-dye but that’s okay,
how we both tried not to get attached

but failed
and admitted defeat
in an Oklahoma motel room

I wanted a poem that spelled out your name
(in purple with glitter
and fairy wings)
and told you that if you keep
smiling at me that way
I think I could almost, maybe, someday
fall in love with you

I wanted it, and I looked for it,
but the poets let me down

I guess I have to write it myself.