Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Box of Rice Cup a Tea
for D.B.A.

i.
my love for you today
so presses against my heart

some force as if pressing it
between two palms
every now and then
time and again,
I have difficulty breathing
I gat it bad

Clifton's going by, along the side
of Woodes Roger's Walk
opposite where I am
here, upstairs of Starbucks
he walks along the water's edge

got to the bottom of my box of rice
digging all the way in
all the way down with chopsticks
I eat with
to perfect the use of more and more

Chinese tradition demands
that you not leave a grain in box or bowl

I've learned therefore to,
with chopsticks,
collect the smallest particles

it is love that picks me up though
and shakes me, uses me, misuses me
however it wishes, however it chooses

I'm helpless, love's merciless, you are too

let love and you undo me
do I mind
what do I care or fear

ii.
can I afford to be here, to tea here

all the things I have to do
to be in step for Sunday

oh what friends to gather with
from around the globe, in Cuba

what friendships, a love affair
to leave behind on this sweet rock

didn't used to rock, it used to suck

but now even I am willing to concede
that it is Paradise or almost

I shall be divided
to a degree I imagine now
I'd be unable to bear

difficult to bear the thought of it
anticipating it

between Nassau and Havana
torn like banana peel

as exposed as one
awaiting teeth


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written on Monday, May 10, 2010
between 5:55 p.m. and 6:50 p.m.

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