Outer Darkness
for P.S.S.

I came into the present,
into the presence
you seem to have discovered,
a long time ago

I’ve been walking in this light,
along this path, since ’76

when my life changed
when my light changed
when my eyes, formerly closed
popped open

you seem to imagine
you’ve discovered
something, someone,
no one else knows or has

such a notion is at best, delusional

what we discover transforms us
makes us new men, new women

translates each of us
further along our own trajectory
our own path

my path’s not yours, your is not mine

what happens to me
might not look like what happens to you

but neither of us knows but us
out of what darkness
out of what twistedness
God has brought us


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
10:22 a.m. 18.02.08

Drums To Skin
for E.M.J.

is someone inside her,
needing her body,
kneading her body

shaping her,
rearranging her from within

how her body
fits the clothes she wears
her dresses, feminine outfits

I tape her up, measure her body
with eyes as if for wedding dress
or wedding present

as if to present her with
something made to order

refusing to conform
in dresses she wears
she stands out,
stands apart, stands alone

woman on her own
her own woman
rather than belonging
to Vogue or fad
or Tommy Hilfiger

difficult to belong to me
who belong to these

but is she a baby’s mother
taking shape within her

does she belong to an offspring
arriving on Bahamasair

unavailable to hand me herself
upon a platter
something in the baker baking

a nine months baby
an eight pound turkey
Christmas approaching

cranberry source and stuffing
fruit cake in addition to prepare

to put out
guests arriving


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
2:25 p.m. 26.09.07

Pulitzer for Kisses
for S.R-S.

attached to you
to be the predicate
of your situation
job, marriage

predicate of a marriage
fallen apart

posture to adopt until, like ice
in a drink you once liked
you liked once, your marriage
dissolved completely

when, according to Brideshead,
such is an impossibility
unless and until
your spouse is deceased

would we ever be able
to live in peace

instead, always in bits and pieces
instead of whole peaches, whole beets
instead of my being able to hold you
your being able to hold me

will we ever be able to kiss in public

I used to live in Paris, used to kissing
on trains


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
4:06 p.m. 29.02.08

Walls Lips
for M.B.

cheeks to kiss
all she’d give me now
all I’m allowed

too late for kisses
soft sweet ones, full of flesh

fresh strawberries, fresh milk

she was my dilly-girl once

once I used to have
a sack full of her to open
to break apart

feast for weeks
around when
mother died

sweet, when life
was most bitter

now she insists
I get along without
who was once
as near as air


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
8:33 p.m. 28.02.08

Circus Tickets
for Susan Wallace

it is like juggling syllables
however many
whatever way she wishes
when Susan Wallace writes and reads

she can be melancholy
or she can be funny


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
5:22 p.m. 28.02.08

24 Crosses

I like the piece best
that’s 4 x 9
thirty-six-page book
diary of an artist on the wall

all to see, all to read
as easy as it is difficult

language you know or you don’t
way I’ve come to this day

knocked out too
saw similar squiggles and stars
see them still,
though I’ve come to

memories, not all good not all bad

order on the wall
my life story hanging

my grandfather, grand uncles
hanging from limbs
from ropes, from trees
in the U.S. South

strange fruit of Abel Meeropol
of Billy Holiday, of Nina Simone

36 lies, multiplied
about who died
this survivor’s truth
upon the wall displayed

24 crosses for kkk to burn,
for Jesus to carry


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
11:12 a.m. 28.02.08

Flock of
Flamingos
Cross The Sky
for N.B.B.

pink lips, ball point pen
blue ink all over them

child, her only pen
unable to make it write
takes it apart

in a room all quiet
everybody in it
wrapped in exams

her pen, her struggle
ink must flow
before thoughts could

instead of on paper
ink all over lips
pouting, pretty
worried, sullied

same lips soiled
with kisses, with pleasures
marriage forbids

twist joy out of tiny
juicy forbidden fruit

taste berries, cherries
moment to break apart

four lips, two share to part
art to perfect, stolen kisses

she had to dispose of that pen
she failed to fix

sitting opposite, one to spare
friends ever since

we were eleven then


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
9:12 p.m. 26.02.08

On Death Row

look how you alter
look what you do
to your own life
when you take someone else’s
when you wrong someone

I prefer on my hands
what can easily wash off

wish nothing more upon my head
than a bucket I can lift off


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
6:09 p.m. 25.02.08

Subtle I Like Best

like someone’s
unbearable stink
to inhale

when fools pull up or pass
with music booming
with booming music

when you have
your very own fragrances
to savor


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
11:34 a.m. 24.02.08

New Distant Sea
for H.A.M.

today I am pieces
of bloodless meat
in crawfish salad

voices scatter
in vegetables

God cannot
hear prayers, wishes
to crawl out of dishes

into oceans again


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
10:42 a.m. 24.02.08

Bongos & Guitars
for J.A.M.

my heart's beating
is the drumming
in the background
and my breathing
another rhythm
accompanying
my song

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
7:55 p.m. 21.02.08

Stone Wings
for H.D.

her legs are lean,
her breasts weigh down
weigh much

more than enough
for babies galore,
for however many men

even if not all at once
she’s had several children,
several men

sucking, pulling on her nipples
dragging them down
along with gravity

pulling on a penis, jerking on it
does this lengthen it

does this
lengthen
or shorten
life


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
6:59 p.m. 22.02.08

In A Fix
for Marion & Mia

y’all hafta ask mom what she do
cus I’een know

even doo sh'een here no more
and daddy een here no more
an he mussie help do it too

but dey fix me up
dey fix me good
or someone mussie did fix me
and dey unfix me

what dey do fur me, do ta me
der whole nation need

I was mess up, I was crazy
smoking marijuana

day after day, up in a tree
like I was a bird on a limb

I had abandon ambition
der road I was on
I was goin no where

whatever vegetatin is, I was doin it
getting high, marinatin
day in, day out, as angry as could be

I was self-destructin, unravelin
becomin undone
not whole, no one to hold

marijuana cigarette to hold onto
and a pen, fortunately
but I was goin under, sinkin fas

until whatever mom and daddy do
to fix or to unfix me
to bind or to unbind me

but they gave me back to me
restored me

I had thrown my heart away
I’d dropped it

without it, did not want to live
could not live

but they gave me back to me
took me from the witch of love
wick of life, they lit again

though they both died, I’m living still
gave life once, gave life once again

light, enough for me now
feast for me now

marijuana, drink and smoke and such
would leave me empty, make me ill
I’ll not turn back time
end again in such hands

not after this gift of restoration
of freedom

I depend upon my pen
upon the ink inside

intoxicated by this, by these
by leaves of books

by leaves of trees, falling,
swirling


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
3:11 p.m. 13.02.08

Pencil Lead
for Erica James

so much pleasure, pain
when you love someone

as if I were tall
how she talks to me
when I have always
looked up to her

standard she’s set
nest within limbs, high up

wren’s eggs or robin red breast

on campus, at university
how they used to hop about
peck about the green grass
at Memphis State University

she knows such spaces well
knows what’s cultivated
who’s cultivated

gestures on her part
suggest, imply that I am
though it is up
from among the downtrodden
that I’ve climbed

Aimé Césaire, comes to mind
Frantz Fanon, Algiers
his wretched of the earth

we are the fighters now
we who have inherited
the struggle for dignity,
equality, justice
to be first class

and not just us
across the board
around the globe

that none would be
downtrodden or spat on

it is degradation
that we work against,
war against in our way

she has paint brushes, lead pencils
I have a pen with ink

we both have computer screens
with keyboards
to pound out ideas on

but we ain’t gonna let no body
turn we round

too many rounds won
to lose this battle

too much beauty
not to share it
with mankind

how I wish I were able to locate
able to own, “Shoeshine,”
film made in 1946
by Vittorio De Sica


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
1:25 a.m. 22.02.08

Piece I Ate
of T.L.C.

I want to write
erotic about you
I want to bite you

verses you write bite me
I must get you back
get you upon your back
get your legs up and apart

want you to embrace me with them
as you’d fling arms about
family, friends

legs about me, locked about me
wanting wood, bamboo
enough to make a forest

all the creatures in the trees
in the night, crying out
you crying, I crying with them

chorus sweet and loud enough
to wake your parents
we’d be in trouble then


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
4:33 p.m. 21.02.08

Trash to Burn
for Ned L. Siegel

unanswered mail
unanswered prayers
heaped up around the world
to burn

how significant
is what I am on fire about

this compared with
what is sunlit
with what the sun lights

what is significant this second,
marked urgent

what is God attending to

his attention elsewhere
not upon my prayers
my bills to pay

several overdue, one due today

I suppose there are
more urgent matters

people dying or being born
people injured or being killed

anywhere where
there is sever pain
I suppose guardian angels
must gather round

must I too seek the suffering out
to matter, to be where
what matters is occurring

how far removed I often feel
with my wants and needs
with my poetry

where is what matters happening
what is valued enough
to be paid for

how small my business is
how insignificant it seems
in the scheme of things


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
2:52 p.m. 21.02.08

Verse Jockey
for T.L.C.

in between the pages
she and I turn

eyes turn
in response to bareness
to beauty

in private
we share what falls from us

her breasts from her bra
a jockey off his horse

we keep our secrets
hide others in verse
in poems, in songs

long I’d not rhymed with her
or for her

what rises like steam
when a kettle sings
when it’s time for coco

is the sweet milk running still

want to fill her with it
want her to keep it warm

want it to be running
when I need it
instead of as slow
as molasses in winter
in Canada

my Tropical love
to keep me happy
to keep me warm


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
6:23 p.m. 20.02.08

Other Half
of Success

Lord,
do not withhold
me from me
or you from me

release me, release money
enough to fill a tub
or two or three

enough for needs
for bills arising
like water in a well

let money rise as well

why am I so hard to sell
or verse or books I write

find me, make for me
a great big audience
all over the world


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
3:50 p.m. 20.02.08

Sky Fall In

chalk-white boxer
falling like an avalanche

Negro boxer’s blows
Negro’s fists, in white gloves
hard enough still
to knock chalk
out of his white opponent

drunk upon his feet,
before he falls in a heap


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
9:57 p.m. 18.09.07

Agreeable Once
for C.D.O.

remember when she used to stink
even after bathing
after showering

I’d point it out as gently as I could
being careful to limit scorn

how disarming was her acceptance
of herself, her scent, her willingness
to go at it again, to do it all over again
until she was fit to go to bed with
to have sex with

these days she’s stink and arrogant about it
offers no apology for it
intolerant, impatient with my inability
to abide her ways, choices she’s made
my unwillingness to be included
incorporated in the mess
that her life is, in its foulness


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
7:37 p.m. 09.08.07

Quick Sketch
for Lorna Goodison

her gestures
as big as an event on stage

all she’s doing is walking by
in white T-shirt, black jeans
wearing slippers,
carrying an unopened umbrella

though rain’s falling
though not squalling down

chewing gum or something
to complement her rhythm

tattoo, a blue, sizable scar
upon her right upper arm

I conclude she’s here from Kingston
used to having to stand out
among her country’s several million

she juts out easily therefore
here along Kemp Road

possibly more than she wishes to

is it to suggest she’s not a bit afraid
though away from Dunn’s River Falls
away from her Blue Mountains


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
3:26 p.m. 19.02.08

Biscuits To Digest
for S.R-S.

she has a belly for joy
as big as a bus
full of hotel employees
sizzling through the rain

home and warmth
and getting their shoes off
on their minds
and freeing behinds of girdles
imprisoned in them all day

she has a belly for joy
as big as St. Nick's bag of toys
when he takes to the sky
on Christmas Eve

things she's filled her belly with
in five decades
I'm surprised she can laugh
surprised she can lift

though she's filled her belly
with earth, with it spinning still

she's able to lift it
along with my spirit

able to climb stairs
with those she loves
with what she loves
to whom she loves


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
4:44 p.m. 19.02.08

Can Love
for S.R-S.

though she’s dear
she’s not air

when she’s there, not here
I still have to exhale, inhale

I still have to live and breathe
in between visits
however delicious these are

I’m going to eat her sour sop
when I see her

fill my belly with it
see how long it takes
to pass through
my alimentary canal

what enters our lungs
must leave too soon after

where can I keep her
within my metaphoric heart
will I in turn, keep safe in hers

what remains when those we love
are away

what of when we or they pass away
are dead and gone

are they the tears we mourn

I’d better accumulate
as much of her, as fast as I can

cans of peaches, pears, guavas
to eat out of season
to make duff with
to boil in bags

what sauce will I have her with
eat her with

will she produce her own gravy
like baked or rotisserie-roasted chicken

my desire now is to make her drip
as I drip

like water off leaves after rain


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
3:35 p.m. 19.02.08

A Couple of Lovers

I must write to remember
I’ve a right to remember

am I able to draw her
able to draw her back
black beauty

fifteen or is she fourteen still
about a minute ago
became a woman
dew upon her still

with her mom and dad
and little sister

if dad and mom
were never lovers
dad and daughter certainly are

how could he help but love her
how well she’s made

unable to avoid it showing
out to eat this evening
mother, quiet figure
in the background

it is she with her dad
a couple of lovers

happily linked
who able to get between them

eyes discover her
I discover her, but too late

dad knows,
though she’s his daughter
she’s bread and water

beauty of the week
her beauty makes him
as weak as it makes me

had to take my pen out
push back my bulging eyes
still my swiftly-beating
heart of horses

white short-shorts she wore
her top, lavender, tight-fitting
something some designer fashioned
little yet but how exquisite

how she looked
and how she moved

fell into her dad’s arms once
and for one second

but I’m aware of their affair
I’ve been there


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
9:26 p.m. 30.12.07

Marijuana Plants
for O.A.

want a relationship to go out in
to show up in
to show off in

this I’ve had so seldom
in five decades

how utterly delicious though
when it did arise
when it did exist

too often, for one reason or another
individuals have to hide from
have to avoid public gaze

there is a girl I go out with
who, in public,
is constantly in my arms

into them, into me
she’d fling herself
and I’d catch her
I’d hold her and she’d hold me

we’d laugh and we’d be
utterly happy


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
8:26 a.m. 15.02.08

L'Être et le néant
for T.L.C.

sliver of a human being
wiggling to be conceived
wiggling towards conception

along this continuum of humanity
how wide apart we are

antiquated as she is
she answers when
her cell phone
rings


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
7:58 a.m. 15.02.08

Saint Valentine
for Tia

moon walk
to bring you back roses
this Valentine’s Day

round trip journey, quick
cut flowers swift
for your vase

scissors to clip with
to cut through stems

true stems in water
in your heart

in there as well
I dip my fountain pen

read words, write words
right words, white words

right girl for me to love
though all the world
suggests she isn’t

what is love capable of
if not bursting through
or leaping over barriers

should I gather flowers
to send her or should I
provide a puppy

fluffy as clouds
gray or cream-white

red bow about its neck
I LOVE YOU
upon a tag, upon a collar

hang myself in verse
to show my love
noose made of verse

I play roulette with poems
I fire into her heart from mine,
through pens

what dangerous business
loving someone is

as many miles away from me
as the moon

I want to be drunk
on moonshine
this Valentine


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
1:25 a.m. 14.02.08

Christine Wilson

glazed with sweat
so many sweet songs

hug her close, tight
I get wet too

I don’t mind being
in the water with her

both of us bare
for poetry to paint a song

wet canvas to dry
in the light
or in the lime light


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
10:59 p.m. 13.02.08

Dorman Stubbs

stormy weather
what he paints
what fills his eyes
his soul

what he holds
what he grips
what he fills his fist with

with his brush
dipped in water
turning muddy

pallet of colors
he wipes
with brush hairs

stormy weather
what he wipes
what he whips
onto canvas
what he wants to last

swirling clouds
and stormy seas

he likes his weather gray
he likes gray days
as much as I

in the out-of-doors
when the weather’s raging
when the storm’s coming

he likes the blow of it
the whip of it

he likes the weather
churning, turning up
what’s in his soul

like soup upon the stove
his grammy was fixing
mixing in, mixing up

until every bit, every piece
was done and ready
to dish up


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
5:45 p.m. 01.02.08

Petals Rub
for Bri & Tia

fingerprints
of the creator
left in the clay
of which I was made

divinity’s stamp
divinity stamped
upon me as well as
within me

no less precious
than flower petals
or butterflies’ wings

clouds above
or blue skies
even further off,
further out

not unlike sea beds
sea gardens,
full of undersea
animals and plants

I as much a part
of God’s plan
as any ant or antelope
or buffalo

I am comprised of
the dust of the earth
as well as dust
off angels wings


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
1:05 a.m. 11.02.08

Alice and Martin
for Juliette Binoche

broken situation
to try to mend

women choose men
to make over

attempt to plant
who has been uprooted

women like to try
to patch things up
match up socks and such

missing pieces, parts
hearts cracked
down the middle
cracked in half to mend,
to make one again

they like what’s
difficult to tackle
like to be challenged
by what’s near impossible
to make sense of

must break eggs
to make omelets
to make cakes

think they can
make as much
of cracked lives,
of sighs


© Obediah micahel Smith, 2008
11:55 p.m. 10.02.08

Our Flower Girl
for T.L.C.

pussy-vase -- place
to place flowers

hole to fill
with as many colors
as crayons

baby’s breath to shove in
until opening is closed

there are vases for flowers
ways to present
an arrangement

moist place
to keep flowers fresh
stuffed tight, stretched taut
with flower stems,
with flower stalks

have to hold steady
until the petals drop
until they all fall off

you’d have to lie still
with Ulysses, The Bible,
Invisible Man, Middlemarch,
Atlas Shrugged or War and Peace
in the window of the florist

customers passing,
window shopping


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
12:36 p.m. 10.02.08

Chocolate Stripes

someone by accident
will put on a dress, an outfit
which would, without mercy
take your breath

so many bodies to outfit
someone or other
is bound to look striking
just dressed in what
is considered yard clothes


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
2:04 p.m. 10.02.08

Like Turkey Like Ham
for N.T.

don’t know where to step
where she is concerned

no where is safe
displaced, wherever you place
a word or deed

whatever you feed her
she might spit out

even though the day before
she might have wolfed down
what today she claims
she never liked, never could

good and confused
is as good as it gets,
attempting to connect with
Her Royal Fatness


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
12:53 a.m. 25.12.08

In The Air
for S. R-S.

marriage the condom
in which to insert my dick
before inserting it
into her Suzie


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
7:33 p.m. 09.02.08

Pictures Book
for T.L.C.

unable to push
or disrespect her
expect resistance if I do

ready to fight
willing to fight, able to fight

claw marks
teeth marks
able, willing to leave these

wilderness, wild,
awake these at your peril

I’ve encountered tiger cats

triggered off
what is opposite delight

I’ve released creatures
of the night

wings flapping in my face
bats which had been
hanging upside-down, napping
fleeing

I in their way, bats in my face
fear fill my shoes
as well as my pee


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
6:12 a.m. 10.02.08

Nassau Rocks
for John Nutt
& for Jerry Cash
on his birthday

out of his mind for music
lost his mind
but does he mind,
instead he has found music

enough to fill him up
like daily bread

music’s prayer
it’s food and drink
it’s what he thinks

he inhales, he exhales
he sweats it out,
sneezes or spits

his music’s it
wants nothing besides

beside his bed,
a pad for sad songs

to set to rock music
when he gets up

lights his guitar afire
come by, watch it blaze

you’d miss it
if you come too late

all his dates are with music
rocks Nassau with it


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
1:56 a.m. 10.02.08

Tails Two Horses
for S. R-S.

she needs everything
upon a spoon, like medicine

she’d have of life,
only what has been prescribed

though her wants are wild
though she goes wild,
is wild with desire

she needs life tailor-made
to a certain fit

in spite of the lightning,
thunder-storm
which brews within

she is determined
to keep life neat, folded

my bed is never made
I need to get in and out of it

already I have been born,
unable to climb back into the womb

she offers me her V-8 Juice
withholds it from me

she desires that I, with can opener,
bore required holes,
make her liquids run


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
4:47 p.m. 09.02.08

Sheep To Sheer
for Tia

outpouring myself
into vessel
unable to contain me

like cold water cup
for hot tea

bottom falling out
with her imagining
I intend her harm

when material
of which she’s made
not intended
for hot substances

in the nick of time
a woman came along

to save me
from being wasted
to save her
having to be
having to feel
over extended

must hold our cups
for lemonade, Kool-Aid
or our glass for wine

I seek chalice to sip from
into which a priest
whispered prayers

poems whispered
in her ear, like drops
of Jamaica Healing Oil

from a bottle sitting a while
in a pot of water boiling


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
6:56 p.m. 09.02.08

Isle of Wight
or Isle of Man
for D.E.W.

i.
am I, are we
deserving of happiness

it’s all theft, isn’t it
stolen joy
when we’re happy

snatched from the air
the whirl
the sky above

or do we wait
to be lifted up

do we tarry, praying
in our upper rooms
for tongues of fire

the world on fire ever since
love, like tiger
burning bright

ii.
I hear rushing afar off
what group is it
already practicing, it’s February

what wonderments
we’ve inherited
from how far away
from how long ago

iii.
want to be international too
instead of stuck on a rock

like conch to bruise
or fish to club to death

fished from the sea
and flapping still

iv.
friends have wings
minds like Plexiglas

Formica of my mind
to cover cabinet tops
vanity tops

job to do, role to play
poems to ply all over the place

poems of mine
all over the world
don't leave me behind
take me along

v.
best friend leaving town
his absence
my birthday present

he’s going
I’m blowing out candles

what of cake
I thought he liked
learned to bake in London

returned to Nassau
a new recipe


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
11:05 p.m. 07.02.08

Ocean Skin Old
for Michael Stephenson

drums beat,
I desire to weep

as if blows fell upon
my own hide

I recall the sting
of those years
emancipation
failed to erase

drum black drums
and my back aches
and my soul bleeds

beads of sweat gather,
run, drip
sweat and blood mix

sweet music bares
so much pain

strain to carry history
those years

black night skies,
star-studded, punctuated

what passages of pleasure,
what rainbow colored threads,
mixed with slavery’s harsh red

cum mixed with blood
screams whips inspired,
mixed with noises
ecstasy sneezes

breezes did blow
sweet off the sea
even while this plague lasted

life’s bitter-sweet
any day, any week


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
10:00 p.m. 06.02.08

Leap Athlete
for Frank Rutherford

triple jump or run
or high jump

out of the Third World
into the real world
into the First World

out of third class
in the third world

into first class
in the First World

so many layers
like deep under water
to ascend through

to where there's air
atmosphere


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
6:57 p.m. 04.02.08

Juices Drip

had an erection
I did not wish to put away
I did not wish to leave behind
for my meeting at 4

doggie delicious as could be
hard and long
and needing to be quenched
ever so slowly

like weenies being roasted
upon a grill in a back yard

beneath them no flames
just red hot coals


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
4:01 p.m. 05.02.08

Whiskey Brandy Rum
for N.I.

here's a shot of me

enough to drunk any man
my woman though
not for any man

shot of her, throw my head back
throw down

against winter weather
against winter chill

shot of you
without ice or coke or water
just as you are

to warm my soul
to do me good
deep down and all over

how many shots of you are there
before the bottle that you are
is empty

is empty a possibility
or are you like a well
a spring inside

and I can drink and drink
however drunk on you or of you
I chose to get

this generous shot of you, my love
to whet my appetite
to wash the dust off the road
clinging to my sole and to my soul

shot of you to hold me
when I shake or quake
from cold or fear


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
4:59 a.m. 04.02.08

Worthwhile Words
for N.I.

dripping-wet girl
sea water, salt water
assault her

is this the girl I know and love
is this the girl I met and crave
to get to know

I have this photo of her
to savor, to lick water from
water dripping off her

what a cup her navel is
once tied by it
to her mother
in the womb
that was two decades ago

most beautiful fingers
most beautiful hand

will she too slip through my fingers
will poems of her as well
be all I’m left with
all I have to live with


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
3:36 a.m. 04.02.08

Red White Yellow Blue
for Nacoya Ingraham

must we not both add
20 million or more years
to your 20, to my 54

age of the stuff, of the substance
of which and from which
we were made

what a difference a decade,
a day makes

what if life ended tonight
or tomorrow

what if your time or mine
came a week ago

that we are here though
means God has reasons, plans
work to be done

our four hands, four arms
four feet, four legs
twenty fingers, twenty toes
our two hearts, four lungs

what has he in store
for our navels, four lips
four eyes, our teeth

how many have I, have we

you are so young and fresh
fresh ideas, fresh mind

as modern as the latest ideas
have I grown old

tied to the computer,
your language and mine
vary slightly

get our messages across
however wide the divide

impasse to cross,
I’d lay my body down
for you to walk it
like a bridge

“Julia,” film of two friends,
not even a world war
able to separate

what love able to withstand
what will ours undergo, over come
on the way to town
to immortality

need links made of precious metal
which will not tarnish
which will not break

where will this vehicle
we’re entering take us
how far and how swiftly

nine months and two week left
of your teens

you must not waste these
or rush to be done with them
gone, they’ll not come back

let me see what I can do
to make your teen years last

made one poem of you,
spirited as a lamb or kid
exciting to be near, to watch

let me look at you
like lightning, lick at you
write more, adore divine

what makes God
the friend to have
old, old, old and so very modern
as in the moment
as anyone can be

why am I considered old
to be taken off the shelf
to be shoved off the stage

my time is now
alive in ways I only am
because of you

similarly, do I not also
bring a charge
electric surge of life,
occurring since we met,
when we meet

in a dish of depression
when I long to see you
when I cannot

sick for want of you
for what seems like a century
since September, 2006

how warm you make winter
February, you in my senses

what a complete man
how complete I am


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
11:54 p.m. 04.02.08