Judson

lost a man I admired
one of my few heroes

I am a fan of his

his wife and he
attempted to turn the table

behave like fans of mine
when I’m a fan of theirs

who am I to look up to
or to follow or to admire

they are admirable, I am not

striving to emulate him
to emulate them

wanting to be the success he is

waiting in line, waiting my turn
to be blessed

they suggest I’ve arrived already
when I couldn’t have
when that couldn’t be

in turn, what is humility, respect
must have come out like contempt

must have seemed I was fed up
I love and admire them

their admiring little old me
I could not accept

must have sneered
must have growled disapproval

but not of them, I love them

disapproved of their suggesting
I am somebody

I am no body, I am zombie
poetry mysteriously

drips from me


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
7:31 p.m. 02.02.09