In Season
for D.B.A.

she is requesting, requiring
that I fall out of love or that
I fall in love, in addition, with someone
or with a few others fast

me in love with her, she in love with me
exclusively, not what she wants
not able, not prepared to accommodate

eclectic appetite of hers, clicking, clucking
for cheesecake ice cream,
Heineken Beer, pork chops

spareribs to season, Sunday dinner
mother cooking

St. Peter, praying, hungry,
fell into a trance, saw heaven open
upon a sheet, by four sides,
being lowered to the ground

saw all kinds of four-footed creatures, reptiles,
fowls of the air and heard a voice say

“Rise Peter, kill and eat”
he objected and was told
“What God has cleansed
call not thou common”

she is my one love, no one else
in my heart where she is,
in the room where she is

our affair, it seems, she wishes
turned into a party or an event
a few people invited, not just her and me

how though can I let just anyone
into poetry, open the door wide
rather than ajar, for her and morning light
light of day, of dawn, to squeak in,
to squeeze in

I do not relish the idea
of just anybody in my life or in my country

let them into The Bahamas,
whomever and his brother,
whatever mess they're into,
however unfit or uncouth

into the regulated beats of my heart
tides washing in and out

to get by, to get past the flaps and valves
like a gauntlet to run

only the gifted can get in, get by,
only the gifted I will admit

sit with, enter into a situation with
or fall in love with

we use our hearts to keep people in
to keep people out

haiku I wrote some time ago
long before she came along

I want this to be her season fully
her blossoms all over the ground
all over me, like Poinciana, like Poui


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
10:20 a.m. 11.04.10