Writing This Poem

by James Babbs

I’m writing this poem
while we’re making love to
keep myself from
coming too soon
the words gathering
in my head and
I think about death
but only for a moment
pinpoint of light
somewhere in the distance
writing this poem
full of darkness
the sky at night
with no sign of stars
and I wish
I could have counted them
trying to write this poem
not wanting to
think about baseball
because it no longer
appeals to me
watching your face
the shifting of it
like sands on the beach
the wind whipping us
and I’m struggling to
write this poem
trying to think of
something more to say
the words slipping
and floating away
like balloons
about to burst
trying to write this poem
but now it’s too late