I Don’t Want to Write a Poem About You

by Catalina Claussen

I don’t want to write a poem about you.

I don’t want you to know

You move me

Stirring

Wild spirits after the children are cozy in their beds,

A day of skiing and mountain wind caressing their cheeks.

I don’t want to write a poem about you.

Instead, I want you to know that I want it simple.

I want to walk with you in the early morning damp

To take your little one to school.

I want yogurt and granola on the patio loveseat,

While the dawn lifts the mist

A tray of sushi and a belly warmed with saké as you tell me

About volunteering at her school and drafting plans for you and me.

I want the night sky

A glass of wine

The silence of the deep

The scent of salt spray

Sun-warmed skin and fine-grain sand pressed up against it.

I don’t want to write a poem about you.

I want to read the surface of your skin, map the contours,

Understand the spirit that quickens beneath

And dive in.