Cancan
for D.B.A.

i.
In Bed

loose out your pussy
it plait too tight

let it fall like water falls
like a waterfall
like a squall of rain

up tight pussy
with me outside
with me shut out

want it tight about
my erect dick
about what's on my mind

talk to you vulgar
because of love

garish colors
to paint your pussy
to paint your portrait
to paint you when
you dance the cancan

when you kick up your legs
when your skirt makes whirls
makes waves

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec
with his eye for motion
his appetite for night life
with his quick hands

when last have you danced for me
wife of mine, woman I love
girl I dream of, dreamed of

now in my ink pen
want to wear
your knickers to Mass
want to buy you underwear

want no one
in the intimacy we share

why should you or I
give anyone ideas

why should I give my ideas away
to who, already, in so many ways

has the upper hand
get to see you, I seldom do

pen in my hand
my relationship with it
and I think of M.C. Escher
drawing of a hand drawing a hand

get to make your pussy juicy
I do not get to drink it
to put it to my head

do not get to have it for supper
wonder what my priest thinks
of my erotic poems

does she turn the page quickly
does she slam the book shut
with you and me in it

does she pray for us

ii.
In Church

he is mine now to take care of
to care for me

we've been left to
and we've been given to each other

gifts we accept like plants to water
to keep alive
like puppies to care for

if we don't, who will
who'd know exactly
how to handle
such a special horse
such an expensive horse

such a priceless jewel
to preserve, to polish
and to keep polished

like the poems he out pores
like those I out pour as well

he is mine now
to love and to care for
however difficult he gets

mine to keep happy
to keep from being unhappy

how we wrestle and row
but how we love one another
how we laugh together

cuss though we might
from time to time

but we are learning each other
learning to love
and to live with each other

to give and to take
to push and to pull

we exhale, we inhale each other
I am the air he breathes
he is the air I breathe

live to keep each other
alive and fresh and free

I transform him
he transforms me


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 8:30 a.m.
and 2:13 p.m. on Thursday,
September 9, 2010