Pass the Future

Jee, she is so attractive to me
first time I saw her,
as hooked as I am today,
two years later

woman as big as she is clean
as she is elegant
moves me, draws me, awes me,
affects me deeply

how, why, a mystery
but how very deeply
she reflects me
even though, when I behold her,
it is not through glass
that I am looking
it is not in a mirror

figure for stained-glass
for light to pass through, for worship

though she nor I is attached to
or connected with,
sufficiently intricately,
the traditions of Italy
just the ink in this inexpensive pen
to hold her or to make her holy

is she my wife to be


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
4:19 p.m. 24/09/07


Piano Fingers

wind blew water from the canvas top
of a seller’s unoccupied stall

she was passing in the afternoon
earlier, it had been raining, she screamed

cold spray, fearing it was not as clean
as shower water
all over her bare as well as covered body parts

reacted as if a wave, out of no where,
smashed into shore and sprayed her

pretty, fresh and clean, heading out
and this assault

breath of wind mixed with water,
daring to shower her, to sully who
is so particular about appearance

about what, about who she brushes against
about what or who brushes against her

wind distributing water, all over her,
she screamed in protest,
as if with sound she made
she were able to shield herself
from soak and wet, from having to go
home again, do all over again
what she’d just completed so very carefully

showering, fixing hair, dressing
not wanting to have to undress

spend the time she’d spent all over again
in the bath, before the mirror
in her closet, another outfit to fit into
to match with how she feels today
with the colors of the mood she’s in
or was in

somewhat changed by the wind
and what remained of the rain


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
10:05 p.m. 24/09/07