On Cardboard In Pencil
for Marion Bethel

i.
can’t help but be a poet
with such experiences to record, recall
they’d waste otherwise

what will history discover about us
what will it have to say of our affair
which never ended, which never could

woman-girl I love, I ache, its pleasure too great

she’d turned her back on me
but that was for a minute or four, no more

back in my heart, where she was initially
why did we link up, why did we part

in spite of family ties, tied in a knot as well
we had our trials

too guilty of love and should be jailed
a pail between us to pee and mess
anything to be next to her, I’d accept

who would come to visit
who would bring us cookies to share
with other lovers outside
cooking whatever up to feed us
to try to free us

ii.
silly thought that I’d
rather be nearer Holly
than near you

what need have I to choose
already glued in a scrap book

pages turn, we turn,
over and over like waves

iii.
contained in us
two fragrances crushed
two petal types, combined

I at your funeral, you at mine,
as much tears to pour
as those nearest to us

whatever stands between us
keeps us apart, twins still
in twain, an impossibility

in spite of veil of the temple in twain
the hour Christ crucified, died

with acceptance, from inside
could I have written
what I write in pencil
upon this cardboard
upon which I sleep
upon the cathedral steps


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
1:47 a.m. 05.12.07