Sylvia Plath Could Not Imagine
Putting Tooth Brushes In Poems
for Desmond Draville

a boy wants a poem
to put in his pipe or into his mouth
or into his mind

write me a poem
an unusual request
from a man in this culture

call upon me to call up a poem
to feel deeply, think deeply about him

only recently though
I thought, I must write a poem
about Patrick Rahming

whom I’ve admired and loved
a long time

big brother to me, big inspiration
as much an inspiration
as Cedric Scott, as Sidney Poitier

I sense he’s fading like the sun
which once was as bright
and as high as midday

he’s going down now
though he’s still tall, he droops a bit
a little

heard him recently
guitar in his lap and in his arms

perform Yellow Bird
for the wife of our Ambassador
to Haiti to sing

he was listening, silent, profound
as he strummed
as his fingers found chords

what chords on what instrument
to represent, re-present

this man who has invited
a poem out of me

like tooth paste I squeeze
onto my tooth brush

I brush mud off my feet
I enter an abode out of the rain
there is a welcome mat

cat in the rain to rescue, to towel dry

Hemingway, another man I love dearly
deeply


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
6:44 p.m. 10.02.09