Zanetta
for Mark H. Baker

i.
slavery is like clothes
we were forced to wear

which never fit

which were uncomfortable
which in addition
itched

until we were able
to rip them off

until we were able to bathe
and to wade
in the water

ii.
what a body to live in
wish it were mine

her body/my body
to get into bed in

to fit together
like two half moons

twin seed guinep
to surprise us
when we bite in
when we bite through

what things we'd do
when the moon is full

when we pull our clothes off
leave them on the floor
or pitch them here and there

no time to wait
time ticking away

what a body to live in
wish it were mine

panties to pull on
to pull off

pants to zip up
to zip down

like choosing to
or choosing not
to wear a smile

what a woman
what high boots
to walk tall in

like a top
I spin around
again and again

unbelieving
to look at her

what a body
to live in

iii.
so at home with innocence
with kittens

fur covered
to play with

upon my lap
across the floor

from room to room
from door to door

up the walls we'd roam

raining and we're warm inside
bare inside

flowers smelling
wine smelling
she smiling

what more needed
wanted
to warm my soul

able to do it
from pictures on a screen

personality in my place
any way

what if she were here with me
what if she were present

as my hand, my pen
this ink, this page

iv.
how far could we go
I wish I knew

how far gone is she, am I
and how far remaining
to venture

on her part, on my part
before falling off our planet
or is it round

if so
how many more times
have we to go round

before down the drain
out to sea

wish we were able
to hold hands
before it all ends
before it’s all over

in love with her
though I know not
who she is
or where she is

I know she is
of planet earth

whatever continent
she's on

wish she were in my arms

v.
grip her up
strip her

stick candy
to fill my mouth

go about with it
for about an hour
or devour all at once

involve my teeth
break sweet into bits

get at the gum
at the heart of it

dispose of the stick

though I am hungry for her
greedy for her

I want her to last long
I want her to grow up
I want her to grow old

even if when she's old
I'm dead and buried

how many dozen times
before then though

would we have gone for dinner
for ice cream

ice skating among
some mountains too
possibly

before I expire
before desire dies

vi.
able to get your attention

she's had mine
since I set eyes on her

eyes as if upon me
my eyes unable
to leave her face

too pretty
she's captivated me

bewitched me
with innocence
with clean spirit
with clean hands

her fingerprints though
all over me

smile and her wide eyes
have ripped me open

sack of rice/sack of grits

hundred pound bags
just off the mail boat

wasting, out pouring

what a mess I am, emotionally
since I've seen her

no body prettier

vii.
tall enough for me
however short she is

able still to reach the sky

she's reached my heart
upon its high shelf

she's opened the jar it was in

able to reach
the cake on the shelf in the tin

able to get ice cubes
from the fridge to fill a glass

able to accomplish
anything she wishes

able to cook fish dishes

I'd fish for fish
out upon a rock
with bait and line

until I had enough for us
or go together to the dock

patronize the fishermen
their boats with their catch
bobbing in the harbor

I'd have the florist bring flowers
vase upon our dining table
to place them in

whatever it takes
to keep her happy
to fill our lives


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
Written on Wednesday,
between 3 p.m. and 10:22 p.m.
April 15, 2009.