a poem a day for a year #87

by Amy Turn Sharp


This is a love poem for you. This is a reminder of the first moment we looked across the crowded someplace and our eyes made a single solid path towards each other. This is a reminder of how bold I was with love. This is a reminder of me taking you home in a country taxi cab across the wonky and wavy southeastern Ohio hills so late at night that it was morning. We bounced towards the farmhouse. We rolled towards the future. This is a reminder of that night. There are not enough words lined up together on a page to announce the importance of that night. I could not write a novel about it. It would not be enough. This is only a reminder. A tiny gesture with my open hand. This is a love poem for you. This is about how I sit up in bed at night, strangled with love and sheets and memories so hot that they will keep me warm if I live to be a hundred. This is a love poem for you. Put it in your pocket. Take it with you wherever you go. We can read it when we are old.