Smile for the Camera
for D.B.A.
truth telling
to tell the truth
truth be told
honest about the state she's in
about how she feels
though she wears a minimal amount
of make up
though her eye brows are altered
are modified
with red carnation above left ear
in her extra-carefully braided hair
face she wears
is not a mask
it is her own face she wears
herself she displays, bares
disarms who is looking at her
take off putting on
she instructs, advises without a word
truth be told, she tells truth
chilly to drink this time of year
Ovaltine with sweet milk time
or Milo time or coco time
a mug of one of these
for her as well
to put a smile upon her face
like the taste of truth she pours
out pours, fills my cup with
way to town from where she is
a bus rout, seventy-five cents fee
she's a school child still
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
2:08 p.m. 27.02.10
With the Tip of My Pen
see a woman from behind
in jeans
and all you think about is
the church steeple
and when I get to heaven
or if I can
steep climb to the steeple
to the mountain peak
to be tempted as was our Lord
in the wilderness
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
5:05 p.m. 18.02.10
The Undertaker’s Daughter
for Marion Bethel
haunted I am, she is
or is she, about her dad
over how he went missing
wrote “The Undertaker’s Daughter”
about it
worked on it at UWI, Cavehill,
in a workshop, in summer, 1999
it appeared not long after, in Poui 2
don't know how ol' I was when
I heard on der news of her dad
going missing
of his plane going down
or lost, never found
went away to somewhere
among our family islands
and never returned
no body nor wrecked aircraft
ever located or recovered
remember wanting to hear
the end of the story
wanting it to conclude
like some tale Kafka wrote
I have all these years been suspended
like something you are unable
to rest down
no matter how tired your arms get
or whatever else or with which muscles
you were holding it up, keeping it up
but this for me
was but an event on the news
he but a member of the Bahamian family
this man lost though was her dad
is poetry what she uses all these years later
to work it out, to get a handle
on what she could not otherwise resolve
did this loss help her to find poetry
lead her to it
with her pen and mine
we dig for ghosts
we use pens to bury the dead
after digging their deep graves
how grave the many in Haiti, dead
an earthquake fallen on them
earth opening up and swallowing them
was her dad a victim
of the devil's triangle
full of water, waves
instead of flames, licking hot lips
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
2:41 a.m. 15.01.10
Fish Scales to Weigh Her In
for Arianne Etuk
words to capture
what words cannot
shiver to think of her
the pleasure too great
I know no lady more lovely
what a reward
to be able to call her friend
to fill her senses with who
with what I am
my essence, my being
inside her brain, her eyes
I for her to recognize
imagine her being glad to see me
how rich I am
able to enter her
like air enters, fills lungs
I take a deep breath when I see her
wherever
refreshed as when
one happens by the sea
and wants ones fill of sea air
bouquet of it, its cleansing odor
cleansing to me too
when I happen to see her
how she is, how she moves
unbelievably beautiful,
remarkable woman
Nigerian dad, Bahamian mom
flavor of a citizen, essence rare
here or on planet earth any where
so unusual
I see her and I marvel
she seems to know me
whom does she know
what does she know
as familiar as only a few people are
who is she, what is it
that she triggers off
I'd be too crazy about her
did I not hold back
did I not exercise control
in God's name what gift this is
her to befriend
what in addition to words
can I give this unusual woman
what she reveals, exposes,
exposes me also
allows to be on show
allows access to what
is usually enclosed in a shell
or within high walls inside a castle
with mote
tender loving life
how I'll envy who she marries
how I wish I were able
to have been born again
to be suitable for such a one
for such a woman
what her beauty triggers off
what her loveliness inspires
I see her and words tumble down
like rain or snow upon the ground
upon their knees to worship
and adore her
how is it
our wanting who we have already
are we not already divinely connected
is it like fish you're tied to
out to sea, rise into the air
too beautiful for words
sunlight upon it
want it, instead of out there
want it on the deck of your craft
to marvel at, up close
and to weigh if you want to
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
15.01.10
Fountain Pen
for D.B.A.
I hope I soak your panties with my poems
as merciless with you I must be
as you are with me
you shake me like a tree
and would not let me be
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
8:30 a.m. 26.02.10
morning love song
for d.b.a.
own her
my own her
woman of mine
my own woman
allowed possession
enough to fill my belly
a belly full, a fist full
a full cup of her
or I fuss until it's overflowing
brimming over
bring my head down quick
to stop even a tiny bit of her
from wasting
slurp and lick and sip
however hot she is
burn my mouth
what do I care
as long as
not a molecule
is wasted
lick my lips
to taste her
to taste it
9:26 a.m.
26.02.10
Beams of Sunlight
for A.G.P.
already connected to the supernatural
to the Almighty
need you fear some other power
some lesser deity
which only exist if you’re stupid
if you’re superstitious
if you’re childish in your mind
or in your faith
face to God, God to face
faith in God, God in faith
outside of you in him and him in you
you and him and him and you
is anything left unaccounted for
leave no room for foolishness
with your hand in the hand of the man
who stills the waters, calms the seas
what can squeak in or out
or squeak through
sneak in or out or sneak through
let the light squeak in, squeak through
it does when morning comes
leaks in through cracks
open the windows up
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
1:37 p.m. 24.02.10
In My Craft My Art
for D.B.A.
these artists and their models
and their contact and I envy
and I envious
or I should be or should I be glad
for safety, for distance, for pictures
should I envy risking
falling into the pit of it
pitch into the pit, tar in the pit
fire in the hole
I have a stick of dynamite
to stick in and explode
not the kind to send rocks flying
pieces everywhere
just a piece here and there
now and then, so that she can
that we can, afterwards
sleep peacefully
sleep in peace
wife to be
does not like me writing these
though words assemble themselves
upon paper
am I an innocent bystander
or am I to blame
for the scheme of love
for the flame of love
aglow in the night
aglow in my life
wherever did she come from
into my words
my words not the same
since I saw her
should I have closed my eyes
not look, turned my head away
instead I stayed for sirens
who lure you to dismantle you
body and soul
along with your dinghy boat
© Obediah Michael smith, 2010
6:43 a.m. 24.02.10
Cocks Fight
i.
stretch marks, fresh tits
teeth marks, nipples, lips
nipples, teeth
nibble nipples
dribble, nipples
lips dribble
horizontal, vertical wet places
mouth to mouth
to resuscitate her
bound to faint
under the weight
of too much to enjoy
ah, upon the rope I cross
to her heart, all my weight
wait a minute
allow her to mature
is this warning correct
is she not ripe already
would you leave her
like water melon or tomatoes
spoiling on the vine
give her intellect room
pick her as I have done
as I am doing
put her in poems
able to keep there
better than if stored
on a shelf in a refrigerator
or in a deep freeze
deep freeze for her
to go off to to study
east or west,
way north somewhere
ii.
cock not enough
to knock upon her door with
won’t want to break down her door
with my dick
this to get up in her
good for her or not
wanting her warm climate
hot pussy with a fever
approach a hundred degrees
always summer up in her
and humid
human to desire sex
head to body, connected by the neck
cock head to insert in her
afterwards shove the rest
would she holler, would she cry
what would she/might she cry
a cock could alter history
hers and mine
of her country and mine
of all mankind
would that be cruel
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
3:00 p.m. 24.02.10
Grapefruit Feast
for D.B.A.
I ate it all
I ate it up
grapefruit I thought
I’d saved piece of
must not ever be
in such a predicament
where you are concerned
however much I eat
I’d want there to be more
however much I ate of you
I know in no time flat
I’d hunger still
I know I would want more
every time I turned
I’d want to find
a whole grapefruit
upon a plate or platter
with the skin off
no more to do
than to pull your plugs apart
bite into your heart
make you laugh
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
8:00 a.m. 25.02.10
Peas Soup
for Z.P.A.
on facebook
she asked me to send her
to surrender my e-mail account
she has something to send me
she said
ever since, I’ve been wondering
what could it be
wondering what it is
just now, I jumped up
sat up in bed
oh, my, I thought
what if it is a pot
or a bowl
of her peas soup
full of dumplings
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
1:13 p.m. 24.02.10
Fortunate Cookie
for Kelsha Roberts
i.
psychic gifts sufficient to know
she was 18 five years ago
though she said a week or so ago
that she is 18,
accepted it then
are you 18 still, I asked, a week later
and she laughed
and said, yes
and I said, but that was 5 years ago
it turned out to be so
ii.
wanted to a say her name
know it would have been
music to hear, music to her ear
combed my note book,
the pages of it, back and forth
before I ordered my box of rice
and after
without it turning up
needed to have placed it in my head
I told myself, rather than on a page
must do that now
need to have it, whenever I, in need,
reach for it
what a lovely name it is
one of a kind
her name as well as
the woman she is
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
5:39 p.m. 19.02.10
Juju Season
for D.B.A.
you too sweet
yur make mur mout water
i am terribly unfaithful
i confess to you
not to who wish me to
tell her not to worry
you know she should
i know she should
God has to save me
i know he will
deep space big space
you're in in my heart
what a flavor of love this is
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
12:59 a. m. 24.02.10
Dream Girl
for D.B.A.
i.
joy like agony
you merciless
I holler loud
I think of you
unbearable joy
don't know what to do
about or what to do with you
what you do with me, to me
do not know how
you do what you do
you'd do it good
you'd do it bad
I got it good
I got it bad
is that good
ii
try again to tell you
language to confess in
want to tell and not tell
say to you directly
what yur do, what yur mean
it een easy
ta jus open yur mout', yur heart
ta say it, ta tell it, to confess
yur gat me on yur line, like fish
it gur be so sweet ta be in yur pot
in your stew, in your belly
oh, my God
gotten into you the wrong way
way down the wrong passage
my conch is what
I should have given you
imagined into being
you know conch een ge' no bone
is bone, my dog
what you have a collar for
what you callin' for
what you holler for
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
11:15 p.m. 22.02.10
Two Telephones
for D.B.A.
affects me for weeks
like no one on earth
like no one ever met
like no one I’d meet
unless it is her again
around the bend running
run into my shadow
coming towards me
coming to meet me
no sweet chariot this evening
this week
what's sweet to feast on
nothing like water melon
drop it, burst it,
pick up one hunk or another hunk
my Lord is writing
my Lord is writing
my Lord is writing all the time
on the radio, round midnight
reminder, reassurance
that the boss is on board
boat won't capsize
storm won’t sweep away
love and life, her and me
what on earth says we cannot
laugh up a storm
laugh up a breeze
relate like twins relate
who, jealous of us
will intervene when
will say
two hearts cannot bounce
like two skipping, happy
like bettyandisbel
unbelievable that we relate
like we do, take risks
say words we say
what can we not say
do we dare say
on a day like today
language wants to laugh
and I let it
two pens for sword play
to sword fight
two friends
like some rock formation
ice formation
ice tea or ice cream sundae
treat to pass time
to put hours in, weeks in
they'd waste otherwise
all over the place
like when in May
snow melts, slow melts
slowly melts
and runs and drains
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
10:08 p.m. 21.02.10
Our Daily Bread
for D.B.A.
she has a sad side
other side of a coin
as near as that
to what joy she knows
able to switch like a light switch
off/on on/off
observed in person
see it
in the switch of expressions
in photographs of her
photographs she’s taken
she shares
no comment about her other side
but I observe it
wonder about it
from extroverted
to introverted
in a flash
am I implying
that these are symptoms
that something’s wrong
what I know is
I do not like when
in a moment she is withdrawn
and I must draw her out again
with something colorful
some tidbit, something tasty
I’d wish, I’d prefer though
that she did not go there
brooding about something
is something wrong
has something happened
which should not have
or should not have
happened yet
has someone seen
or done unto her
what they should not have
who should not have
has some son-of-a-bitch
trespassed
against her
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
7:44 p.m. 20.02.10
18 Once
for D.B.A.
i.
idea of us, timid to put her in it
in this, even if it is a net of words
we’re in together
equation of us as difficult
or more difficult
than hazel nuts
to crush, to crack, to crash
to extract the meal inside
timid to make shells
with her and me in them
like yin and yang, like twins
what if she had
elsewhere to go
elsewhere to be
what if she needed
to break open a text book
lay it apart to study
to prepare for exams
as much as I wish her to be
want her to be part of me
would not want her to be
apart from the world she's in actually
apart from her pace and place
in the world
she can join the madness of art
the mad man I am
when high school is over with
when exams are behind her
won't want to interrupt
won't want to rupture
membrane containing her
rub the tummy she's in all I like
but I must wait until
after she is born to hold her
to lift her up, to baby sit her
ii.
her prepositions
inviting me, urging me
to write about her
of her, on her
and my mind and emotions
haywire, in a tangle
I have to loose out
too young, too innocent
to be aware or entirely aware
of double entendre
of double intentions
I laugh, I'm careful
not wanting to read in
what was not written in
what was not intended
someone or other
heaven sends along
when we get to those junctures
to those forks in the road
to conduct us onward
knowing the way
no need to pause here
let us keep going
I know your destination
where you have to be when
way for you to get there
I get where I need to be
when I need to be there
with you to guide
18 once myself
and angels came with wings
they came
and trusting
I went flying
as if upon a magic carpet
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 5:45 p.m.
and 7:35 p.m. on Friday
19.02.10
Toussaint’s Children
for Antoinette Gloria Penha
even before the earthquake
what Haitians in Haiti let-
have allowed to happen to
to happen with human life
sights and stories
to cause you to bring
or to want to bring up
what you had for breakfast
able to butcher a human being
until he or she were in pieces
without feet or hands or limbs
until a brain in a head
was upon a pavement
or upon a sidewalk
too extreme the carnage
too extreme the chaos,
the fuss, the fights
from the nights of the revolution
similar nights ever since
able to boil over any minute
over any unresolved matter
able to massacre
a congregation in prayer
people in church
able to, with machetes
kill a pregnant woman
I know a little about mayhem
I know of the hem
of the garment of Christ
of a woman with
an issue of blood
needing to touch it
needing to clutch it
what does Haiti need
to grab hold of to heal
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
2:30 p.m. 17.02.10
Uncork Champagne
for D.B.A.
i.
where is here, where is now
I’d know when I see her
where and when we meet
moment and place that matters
that would be where it’s at
usually I am
hanging out with her pictures
she, with my poems
where her pictures, my poems cross
is certainly somewhere significant
but where and when we meet
that would be here, that would be now
that would be where it’s at
the present, a present
with her and me in it, as if wrapped in it
will she wear a bow
will a ribbon be around her
gift with her and me in it
in a dark box, until the lid is taken off
when the stone was rolled away
what light shone, what a new day
what and where is the present
I’ll know when she and I meet
where she and I met
where east and west cross
where wood pieces cross
our paths crossed
and my life changed
and her life changed
and the whole world changed
where will we roll it
like a bowling ball
will any pins be left standing
when the ball this world is
from her mind and my mind
from her hands and my hands
is released, and wham
and a forest of trees
are flat on the ground
flat on her back
on the floor of a forest
I looking at her
awaiting instructions
ii.
I am not good
with the time on the clock
forgive me, I never was
I never will be
rivers just run
clocks tick, bombs tick
snow falls, rain falls, waterfalls
to get into love
necessary similarly
to tumble down
like water, like snow,
like an avalanche
iii.
the intellectual and the body
the intellect and the body
which to address
which to undress
look down to see her
eyes fall from conversation
to what is made for clothes
without clothes, what where,
what here, what there
intellectually connected
eyes connect
I collect what I can
what eye can drink
what I can think up
I look down like a crime
I was committing
stealing sweets, stolen sweets
to unwrap
wrappers drop
mouth for sugar daddy
for candies, for toffee
bite or suck or chew or what
too eager, too greedy to decide
allowed a little
or allow myself a little
but a sip of what is so inebriating
drunk as well by conversation
in conversation, she’d laugh
but not out loud
covers her mouth with her hand
embarrassed is she
about emotions
about her body
about her intellect
I want to free her
pull the stopper out
let Champagne spout
iv.
I only didn’t get to wash
my entire back
washed where I could reach
above hips, over one shoulder
then over the next
truth be told,
I did not wash my neck
the rest of me though
head to toe,
visited with soap and water
too cold to do this
or to attempt to
in winter on New Providence
in my house, cold as a dungeon
in December, in January, in February
like a cat, I’ve been avoiding water
but out of the blue, a date
and guess who wit’
girl 18, a muse of mine
occasion to see her
not just pictures
not just online
meeting in person
beard had to go
I had to go into the water
and suffer, and tremble
and holler
v.
woman I came upon
Starbucks back room
words cannot do justice
cannot capture that moment
thought of knowing it was she
woman I was meeting
expected a child, becoming a woman
in flux, in transition
is she here, where is she
my eyes wandering
quick breathing,
heart beating, beating
feet searching
floor like a studio for ballet
pale wood pieces
fitted together
where could she be
where is she
she could not have/
would not have left
before I could board ship
she had to be here
be there, somewhere
back to me, before her
stretch of glass
out through which
you could see the harbor
could see tourists
could see ships
could see sea gulls
could this be the woman
the creature, the creation
I am here to see, I wondered
even though I have photographs
recent ones of her
I was unprepared for what I saw
her from behind, her hips in her jeans
contour of her anatomy
woman, her beauty
not easy to surpass
grapefruit tree, full of grapefruit
anyone of them, requiring two hands
to hold
have I become this fortunate
am I this rich
remember her now, younger
in a photograph, a series of them
of her upon the lap
of a young man in a car
only now am I able
to imagine the fun
he must have been having
how overjoyed he must have been
no more room, no more space
for more hips in front or back
of the car they were in
overjoyed that his lap
was where she ended up
her weight would be
even sweeter now
my lap the lap to take off from
to get to heaven
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 11:25 p.m.
Monday, 15.02.10 and
2:03 p.m. Wednesday
17.02.10
Pissing off St. Valentine
two men pissing in my yard today
open my window, shouted,
"Y'all trespassin'!"
didn' know no one was livin' here
we jus' come from church, dey say
as if any shit dey do is holy
I is a spider, I have a big web
I have to run, without en'
from one en' to der nex
when someone or something or other
pull upon it, trow something into it
rub up against it or bump into it
not enough to remain stationed
in the middle, at the center
though I am the beating heart of the web
they think the spider who built it
who owns it, whose home it is
was dead, is buried
spider who is alive and well
is in love, it's Sunday
it's Valentine's Day
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
2:50 p.m. 14.02.10
In a Molecule of Water
for Dion & Romaina
Dion and his girlfriend
Valentine again
still together I see
how many billion flowers
since they met
have dropped their petals
challenged to write
a poem for them
at the drop of a hat
in response to request
must put the whole world in it
must leave not a thing out
must recreate the world
in words, as our Maker did
in six days, in the beginning
when I rest my pen down
poem requested, commissioned
must be finished
petals drop
but the planets orbit
attached to the spheres
they're in
Dion and Romaina, similarly
lovers forever, bonded for life
like oxygen and hydrogen
in a molecule of water
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
5:35 a.m. 14.02.10
Veil Divided
for D.A.
not even twenty
that hole to climb from
yet we connect
yet we're connected
why this is, how is this
twine wind round
earth going round
somebody spinning it
spinning us
a friendship
into oneness
have done it
continue to
began it when we met
or when I saw her
and my eyes shut
rocked open
there was daylight
she was in it
with hands attempted
attempting to close back
veil divided
light streaming in
what had been
a moment before
a dark room,
my dark room
picture all of a sudden
developing
in a flash
before me
what was I to do
or am I to do
was it a breeze assisting
was it the earth
oscillating still
was it the skirt she purchased
chose to wear
and since, I am helpless
or is she assisting
taken possession
my pen in hand
guides it, it glides
across pages
in a calendar
had a painting, a copy
original made by artist
without arms
brush in a firm grip
in his teeth
with which muscles
in which sweet wet cavity
dipped, dripping
does she hold
the pen I write with
poems she inspires
what does she know
about desire
about such fires
at 18
©Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
2:39 p.m. 13.02.10
Für Elise
for A.G.P. & Z.P.A.
were I able to
I'd make music
with the women in me
with the feelings in me
the conflict and harmony
were I Beethoven
I'd compose a fugue
or if I were Bach
mais je suis poet
with a pen alone
without the gift of music
except muted
like music in sonnets
by Keats or Shelly
or by Shakespeare
we are the men
afflicted with love
with words alone
to sneeze in response
I wish oftentimes
I were able to sneeze music
I'd have sneezed out
Für Elise a few times
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
5:52 p.m. 10.02.10
Use to Be Friends
for Vanessa Linden
that was it for her and me
she became a stranger then
a stranger again
imagining the men's room
she had just cleaned
was too clean for me
the door is locked, she said
and I don't have the key,
she lied
it has been cleaned for tomorrow
it was today then
it is today now
as it always will be
our friendship slipped from us
now a part of yesteryear
of yesterday
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
6:50 p.m. 11.02.10
Oranges on a Boat from Andros
for Wilshire and Andrea Bethel
he exudes success from all his pores
not like me
on some days rich, on some days poor
in some ways rich, in some ways poor
on Sundays rich, on Mondays poor
he exudes success from all his pores
not like those, like tides
which rise and fall
it’s been like this, it’s been high tide
for him for years
wish I knew what his secret was
want to be like him
before I grow old
before it gets cold
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
7:59 p.m. 10.02.10
Into My Words
for D.B.A.
write of you or pop like balloon
want something badly, unable to get it
you feel you might crack
like something might pop
das how I feel
in response to response
in response to her words
das how she's been
since she slipped into my senses
and into my words
into her world and into mine
this trade, exchange
and ever since, what transformation
thirst when without her
when I go for long without a word
when I get word, when I hear from her
I ache anew, another way
ache which joy causes
end of school, a woman already
a woman a while
more and more dangerous to look at
more and more daring
the outfits she wears
man that I am in a little girl’s hands
or how it seems
but she knows how to hold,
how to grip me, what to do
when she makes me weak
when I weep for joy
these poems I write
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
10:24 p.m. 07.02.10
Made for Walking
for Sonia Farmer & for Diana Wallace
unlike old leather shoes
of which Van Gogh made a portrait
which he immortalized
painted as if it was
the owner’s face he captured
all he has in his brush hairs
this old pair of once, brand new,
leather shoes
which have gone miles
which know the ropes,
the road, the weather
the leather held up and then gave in
who wore them though
off the scene, off the stage
must be as worn as his shoes
unless he’s left them, passed away
a finger pointed to, pointed out
red, leather boots
at a poetry reading recently
invited me to put them in poetry
I looked,
dismissed them as unfit for poetry
they fit, they suit the woman in them
portion of them to turn up or turn down
about the ankles
wooly without when down
wooly within when up
about ankles in snow in New York
when away from home
what have they though to say to poetry
what has poetry, a poet
to say of what has no voice yet
no history
like a new car,
recently out of the show room
finds the road strange
shoes in a store window a week ago
on feet, on the ground
a stranger, shy yet
just stepped into this world
or calves or cubs
just born again
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
3:43 p.m. 05.01.10
Not Allowed a Pinch
of S.F.
not satisfied to have almost all of her
jealous of my little bit of her as well
how greedy love is, a lover is
I on the other hand,
must do without so much of her
large portion that’s his
her arms, almost as white as milk, raised
her underarms, from where
she’d have recently, with razor or cream,
removed hair
I had this sudden urge
to plant a kiss or two in her right arm pit
bury my face there for a moment or two
we were in public though
her jealous lover not far off
I do at times thirst for her though
for her milk-whiteness
part of her that’s mine, was mine
before she met him, before he came along
he wants to put his arms about her
encircle her, make a circle about her
wall out all the world, like walls about a city
but even a city needs who comes and goes
needs to export and to import
like inhalation, exhalation
need her, needs me
what can he do with or about who are friends
about two friends
relying upon each other
even if nights in winter, in summer
he’d lie with her
he’s seen her naked, held her in his arms
like a tall glass of milk, he has emptied
over and over again
what I get a sip of,
what I am only allowed to sip from
thoughts now and then
have flashed through my mind
to climb into her like a milk bath
to waller, splash about,
nutmeg in milkshake
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
11:31 a.m. 03.01.10
What to Wear
for Sonia Farmer
no need to put on airs
already clothed in poetry
already bare besides
already she’s familiar with
aware of my bareness
of my verse
of my best
of my worst
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
11:38 a.m. 06.01.10
In A Sugar Cane Field
for D.A.
hurts to look at her
after not seeing her in so very long
how she is made and has grown
how her high heel shoes
affect how she stands
her bottom, her back, the back of her head
against a pillar of marble, erected behind her
she reaches back, rests a palm upon it
caresses it in a way I look and I'm made jealous
what if her blue dress were ripped off
certainly she'd not maintain this posture
unless she and I were in private somewhere
I can see her without her dress
with her arms about her
to cover as much as arms could wrap round
as arms could wrap up
I'd like to get my arms about her naked
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
9:35 p.m. 05.02.10
