Thursday, April 22, 2010

Shells Shelves Selves
for D.B.A.

wall between us
would you commit to climbing over
I from my side, you from yours

we could get together then
to be one, would be guaranteed

girl you have a bunch of hang-ups
in spite of the many you have gotten over
in spite of those that you’ve transcended
what a lot left still

are they intact still, needing to be dismantled
because of age or because of culture

as stubborn as a horse or as a mule
places you’d get to and refuse to budge

instinct or what is it, providing these stops
suggesting them

not a word about what you were engaged in
that night/morning on the phone

occasion I wrote a poem about
concluded that you were defecating

idea you corrected in comment left
I was hot and wet and half asleep
as usual, I was multitasking

amounts to what, is still not clear
unable still to come right out and confess it

all the holding back of thoughts
all the frustrating half-said things

awkward when I get into you
find you’re comprised
of as much that is backward thinking
backward looking
as you are forward looking
and forward thinking

what’s to be done
with this combination of notions,
combination of tensions

what similarly am I gripping hard
would not let go of
hold fast to, refusing to let go
like a child to a teddy bear
or some other toy

we have our hang-ups
coupled with what we want to release
want to be released from

what though do we grip
like the side of a boat
when waves and weather turn rough
or some part in or on some vehicle
when operated recklessly
when driven too fast for comfort

earth we are on, how fast it goes
unicycle we ride
without use or need of hands
arms free to embrace; our legs are also

I want your bare body, wrapped up in
and wrapped about my own
want to be yours,
you to be my own

the way one has a bottle of beer

to up-end, to empty


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
10:55 a.m. 22.04.10

1 Comments:

Anonymous D.A. said...

Naturally, I do have a shell; in terms of shyness and/or stubbornness. Therefore, there are some things that I would not say, which in that case I allow my poetry fizz for me like a soda shaken or a beer burping.

Hot wet and bothered
out of the tub
onto the phone

Saturday, April 24, 2010 9:22:00 AM  

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