In Love In Three Movements
for M.B.

i.
I steal honey as if I hadn’t any
honey from me overflowing

we, two bees when we meet
since we met

hum, buzz, hover, alight
how she’s changed my life

changes my life when we connect
however casually

though love like ours
permits no casual outfit

when we meet, we have to strip
not a stitch allowed
in the room we occupy

in public, with her
I’d wonder about exposure
about eyes upon us,
upon our bareness

emotionally as without clothes
as insects/flowers, petals/wings

we connect and I am confused
what’s her, what’s me

as flowers and insects in a field
what are her petals, what are my wings

used to climb up and down
within her once

tickling and being tickled
to an unbearable degree

ii.
able to slip out of me and into her
how we have slipped forth and back

we have and could, we could and can’t

how upon the brakes she’d press
to prevent slipping, sliding

slippery us/from/into/out of
swing-like, like trombone

not dry though, not just by wind assisted

wet slip, slide, wet ride
produce what we need to glide in
glide on, ride on

we can but can’t
she has to press brakes, slam down
as if upon a wet road, a wet street

rain-wet, rain-slick
we’ve gone in and out of each other
as if greased

wide eyed, wild, inspired
we besides ourselves in seconds

we sing about our situation

born into the world, into the word
in March, in May

we met one August evening
unable to separate since
unable to alter or to prevent
the slipping, sliding forth and back

even with her foot upon the brakes
of the pendulum we make swing
forth and back and forth

iii.
when we come, we arrive then
as if in spite of intimacy
we were journeying still
to be together, to get together,
to arrive where the other is

as if when we come
we experience being together
in space, in time, one finally

when, though we were
as close as could be
or so we thought

with our clothes off
we were two until we came
only meeting then,
only touching then

she and I have touched each other
and life nor I, since, has been the same

she, it seems,
has not been the same either

I recall one night we had intercourse
carried away, unable to help it
went into a friend’s bedroom
with nothing to wipe with
I without my shirt when we exited

our hostess and a friend of ours
in the living room, awaiting us

deliciously embarrassing
my shirt all sticky, in a ball in my hands

nothing else to wipe my dick,
her pussy with

after slipperiness, slippery sex
how one we were

slip and slide until we collided
sap like smash up
like ripe fruit falling,
colliding with the ground
and bursting open


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
1:21 a.m. 14.11.08