Monday, September 20, 2010

Two Balled Fists
for D.B.A.

talk about heaping insult upon/atop injury
after what you subjected me to
that horrible Sabbath evening
following our visit to Dawn Davies

after how extremely inappropriately you behaved
you dare bring that up, bring that back
you dare comment on the inappropriateness
of one gesture of greeting as opposed to another

suggest there was something uncultivated or uncouth
about offering to fist bump instead of a handshake

what I was subjected to, position I was put in
who did I owe what
how could any demand be made about right behavior
on my part
when you had behaved so extremely wrongly

when, were I to have behaved like someone gone berserk
it should not have been surprising

I was civil and sufficiently under control
to offer to fist bump rather than a fist or several
rather than, with bare hands, attempt to shift
that house you had us take you to upon its foundation

so much to suppress, seething as I was,
insulted as I was and you bold enough
to revisit that evening, that event

my having to be contained within what
only a lunatic could have chosen to do
or to arrange and you dare return to scrutinize
to sneer at my offering a fist bump

suggesting it was lower class or common or street
and this man we had taken you too was a gentleman
or too elevated for a greeting offered under so much pressure
amid such an insult, amid such humiliation

you bring it up, bring it back,
an attempt to humiliate me even further
demote me even more

you do not seem to comprehend
how offended I was then, how offended I am again

my fist bump, instead of it being marveled at
being offered in such a circumstance

what is suggested is that it was beneath him
suggest that I am or I was too

in what universe could or would I or that
be weighed thus
only in a lunatic asylum would such logic apply

thought I should have been awarded a medal
for having behaved so well,
for offering a gesture of friendship
under such circumstances

after what I'd been plunged into
one of the most awful moments
of my entire existence

you are daring to heap this upon that
suggest I do not or did not know how to act
when I could have- should have gone berserk

madly in love and because of it, because of this
treated like shit, subjected to bullshit

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
1:04 a.m. 17.09.10


Anonymous d.a. said...

Well such add a lining of fire to your writing.

What if I gave you a fistful of flowers, favors or friendship? Wouldnt that be a fist you'd want?

Monday, September 20, 2010 8:00:00 PM  
Blogger Obie Quiet said...

My God, my darling, there is a fist of peace or piece which you can provide - balled as it were about my you know what. I suppose it is the peace that feels like war - like doing battle. It is the battle of love though. That is what it is. I so love your inclination always towards reconciliation. It is a divine gift - a very special quality with which you are blessed. I have, ever since our very first conflict, been disarmed by it. Fist full of flowers? I wrote such a poem a long time ago or it might have been the title of one or the title of an entire collection of poems. At times you and I seem to be happening as one single entity on a variety of levels. God bless you. God loves you. I love you.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010 2:55:00 PM  

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