Grape Wine Wine Press
for T.L.C.

how she’s able to face
who she’s able to face
what a face she has to prepare
to meet the faces we must meet

met her and I have been translated
don’t know now
what language I’m speaking

stare into her eyes, I stutter out poems
I’m talking in tongues
to the tune of
all my nursery rhymes combined

I invent a melody for the stars in her eyes
stars fall from a starry night, a starry sky

Van Gogh’s ear is bleeding through bandages
his great grand nephew, recently
lost his life, his head

I on the other hand, blessed with new life
with this beauty

what has linked up, who has linked us
I must thank

tanks of ink across pages,
to get me here, to where she is
to celebrate upon this paper plate

I ate the grapes I had heaped upon it
now I pen a poem upon it
for heaven’s sake


©Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
7:06 a.m. 15.12.07