for E.M.J.
i.
disconnected from me
able to see me
to observe me
in ways I’m unable to see me
am I lovely, am I ugly
what does she,
from her distance, see
detached from me as she is
too close to me
too blind to see, to observe
though I access me deeply
through what I think,
imagine, feel
from behind me
she’s able to see my ball plate
old man that I am
too early going to seed
ii.
what is so embarrassing
about being black
why the desire to disassociate
from whatever this tradition is
from Black history
has it really been so bad, being Black
are Blacks losers
have we been, have we done
little to be proud of
outside of having survived
roaming the planet
beside all the others
who have survived
who have arrived
too few presents to offer
in exchange for gifts we desire
gifts we receive
must we steal
iii.
“I am shelling out hugs!”
she said, laughing ecstatically
to take any romantic meaning
out of contact, out of touch
just an ambiguous gesture for the wind
arms flung open
arms closing about a neck
beyond the greeting of it, indifferent
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
8:49 p.m. 01.05.08
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