In Spite of Spiders, Bats
for S.R-S.

why she'd push herself
into my sphere
as embarrassed as I am
about areas of it
about aspects of it
is a mystery

brushes pass, pushes pass
embarrassment, my own,
and in she comes, in she goes

insists upon entrance
upon being inside

on the inside with me
eating, drinking, conversing

what is it about my world
with its dust, its cobwebs

with lizards, darting about
does she find magnetic, attractive

though my toilet, its bowl, its seat,
I keep rather clean
and share with hardly anyone
outside of her, outside of me

my tub is a mess
is hardly ever touched
as dirty as the wall tiles are about it

too busy writing, reading
awaiting success and fame
pursuing these,
to scour, vacuum, dust, clean

thought I was unfit for romance
she insists upon coupling

should I think less of her
for not thinking less of me
for not disrespecting
or dismissing me

used to rejection
what to do with acceptance

as troubling, as troublesome


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
3:20 p.m. 21.06.08