Monday, October 04, 2010

On A Cold Concrete Porch
for D.B.A.

want to wash my face in V
where your thighs meet
or is W what is formed there
to eat into, to bite into

warm milk to go with it
does it come with it

wash my face before I eat breakfast
has a cat bad breath

it stretches and yawns
licks its tongue out, day to get into

oh the things I have to do
in addition to sing of you
worship and adore you

I hope not instead of-
not in place of God above
our maker, word giver

you bring him nearer,
you are his handiwork in my hand

my head, my face
in what is delicious

as a cat's milk in a saucer
or pie pan on the floor
I lap up, I lap at

laugh at me all you like
because I am a fool in love

such a fool for you, so helpless
you divided girl

will he and I
be at your funeral weeping
were you to predecease us both

might we turn to each other then
two men, two friends
instead of rivals

or you two at my funeral
though you weep, he happy
to be rid of me finally

rid of poetry arriving
full of desire for you
full of fire for you

full of whatever words I choose
to use, however loose

to attempt to make
your pussy hole leak
the liquids of love

do I know her better
love her better than anybody

as kept out as I am
locked out, left out

left to sleep upon the porch
upon cold concrete
rather than up against you naked

two spoons
but not cold stainless steel

you and I breathing, alive
in bed, in love

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
written between 11:10 a.m.
and 12:05 p.m., on Monday,
Oct. 4, 2010


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