"Hadn't seen you since you added the foliage,"
said she
what I eat, what I drink, air I breathe, become my beard
weight to bear, load to carry
worry not at all, at present, about appearance
my support, it seems, does not come from how I look
dress up or not, I get left alone
except for those who love what a poet does,
what a poet knows
I'm going where a poet goes,
with followers or without,
words flying from my pen and from my mouth
my beard’s from where my words come from
I make pens sprout, I grip them in, grip them with
my green thumb
"I hadn't seen you since you added the foliage,"
said she
stroking what she spoke of: I her pet, her kitten,
poet takes off his mittens to tap into poems
boxer removes his gloves for a street fight
in such a brawl, he draws blood with a blow
with another, a broken nose, with another, he breaks teeth
this poet does not like the smell of defeat
as stink, as unpleasant as smelly feet
"I hadn't seen you since you added the foliage,"
said she
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2006
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