Sunday, September 12, 2010

Ingmar Bergman Buddies
for G.M.

look back I see
the times we were together

when, where, bare,
near, there in Cuba

our souls were bare
if our bodies were not
baring our souls
bare in our souls

every occasion or nearly everyone
comes back
when we were attached
why was that

like someone, lost, found
refusing then to separate

dine together, swim together
lie together, sit together

we'd be together
not wanting to be apart
except for that day or part of one
when I did not see her

when I did, she told me
of an eye infection
showed me what remained of it

told me of her visit to hospital
of medicine prescribed
eye drops to get the red out
to get whatever else out

to clear up
what made looking cloudy
seeing difficult

remember that day without her
remember how I missed her

looked about as we went about
my eyes asking, my heart
if not heavy, not as light
and not as quick as when
she’d turn and call,
"Obi!" and beckon
for me to catch up, come along

insisting that I join her, insisting that
we not come apart, not ever again

not after being apart all our lives

on this planet, who planned it
that we'd not know each other
until then, until now

Ingmar Bergman's movies
along with English she knew
were our bridges

by these we crossed
and re-crossed and still cross

without intending to disconnect
ever again in this life

however much or however little
of it left in the cup I was given
over half-a-century ago
to drink up, to drink from

in it, I've come upon
who's honey-sweet
to know, to keep me
to cause me to love life
like I never had
or never could
until I am fearing
that I'm ill
that I might die

not as healthy as I was at 21
feeling I was as immortal
as a Greek god

mortality fills my nostrils
when I fart


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
12:52 p.m. 12.09.10

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