The Other Cheek
for Creselle Dean

pitch-black face, pretty as can be

why this, all my life,
has been my favorite skin shade
is a mystery

but I'd see black skin, women especially
and I'd get goose bumps
thrill of it too much to bear

what is stirred or penetrated, I am unaware

titillates the soles of my feet
affects hair follicles filling my skull
of this effect I am aware

wrestled with her, last time I saw her, I recall
wanting to limit how much I cared
or how much care I expressed

needed to put a wall up, needed to keep it up
one cheek enough

another kiss, another cheek, was going too far

had to draw the line somewhere
feared my wish might have been
to take her away to my emporium upon a hill

she resides elsewhere, has children in her care

did not wish me to encircle her or cage her
she had not long before escaped a cage
she was not happy in

I looked closely at her face last evening
loving it, its collie-blackness
it is what lights my fire, always has

was it Goya, Spanish painter, who knew so well
how to use black

how well have I used black, I wonder, in my art

what colour should I juxtapose it with
with what colors did she complement her skin shade,

profound and lovely as a Long Island midnight
before electrification and street lights

looked up, all you saw were stars
snowflakes of all sizes suspended in heaven

what does she fear when I get near
what does she find necessary to wall out
what does she embrace

I wish I were as attractive to look at as she is
she brushes her hair back, wears it in one

you should see the waves
in this black black woman's curly curly hair


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
12:01 a.m. 15.01.10