What Love Is: A Poem In Three Parts
It’s 2:30 in the morning and once again
I’m in the bathtub
trying to relax,
trying to heat myself up
so that I may fall easily
back to sleep,
when I realize suddenly
how thirsty I am.
I just can’t bring myself to leave
my now perfectly warmed
rose scented bath.
This is the moment where I wish
I had a partner to whom
I could speak softly
through the open door so
as not to disturb our neighbours.
“Darling, darling, wake up! Can you
please bring me a tall glass of cool water
along with those juicy looking figs
that we bought this evening
from the St. Lawrence Market?”
Love is a verb.
Love is not kissing your wife’s picture
whilst extolling her virtues.
Love is getting out of your comfortable
bed at 2:30 in the morning because
you hear Love’s voice in the guise of your wife breaking through your slumber,
imploring you to please please,
bring a tall icy glass of water, along with some figs to the bathroom
for your beloved.