May 10: My Wife, James Scannell McCormick, "A God"

Tonight, I have a love poem from my friend.

It's funny.  During the week, my wife and I see each other for about three or four hours a day.  I leave the house before she is awake.  During the school year, I sometimes don't get home until after she's asleep.  We talk on the phone at lunchtime.  "How's your day going?"  "How's work?"  "Do you want me to pick something up for dinner?"  That's it.

Yet, I think about my wife all day long.  Hear her laugh in my ear.  Feel the warm palm of her hand on my neck.  She's present for me, all the time.

Saint Marty guesses that's what love is all about.

A God

by:  James Scannell McCormick

Thumb-heel at the back of my neck, nails in my stubbly nape,
You wrench my head back and my mouth wide open.

Usually I’m no fiery vessel; usually I’m as unburning
As a stone-pile in dawn frost.

But you tear me from tongue-root to pubic-bone.
Lightning-rod, I spark and flare.  Even my knees glow.

O incandescence.
You want to speak all the time now, I not at all.