Love Games
for Nancy, my favorite
of Dr. Sakis’ dancing girls
quite a few of whom I love

glove for balls, as supple as that,
similarly concave

fist without end, punching it, shaping it

hips like this, like mitt, balls thrown swift,
ending in mitt, making a noise
it hits, it fits

music fills her hips, beats like fist into fist
wearing mitt, wish I had such access

without it, it seems she is my mitt, my fit exactly

as if worn for years, struck lovingly into shape
broken in like leather demands

how I desire to wear her until she were pliant
comfortable to wear always

to have, to hold, to hug
whatever role joy suggested we play

the balls I could catch with her on my hand
in my hand

I have balls to throw to her myself, to trap,
capture, collect


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
4:27 a.m. 04.10.09