Sunday, November 28, 2010

On A Nail in the Wall
for D.B.A.

sweet and sour pussy
like sweet and sour pork

like something I bought
from Double Dragon
for my growling belly
for my belly growling

one rainy day which lasted a week
then six, then six months

never sick and never tired
of eating her sweet and sour pussy
like sweet and sour pork
while it rained

what I had with my blinds drawn
with thunder rolling, lightning flashing
snatching at my chop sticks

so much better to have, to handle
than knife and fork in this sort of weather

what storm is this
we are passing through now
something or other
threatening to pull us apart

dismantling us
with her own two hands
hands she used to hold us together with

sweet and sour pussy
like sweet and sour pork
I had been learning to love the taste of
though it was paradox
at times, outright contradiction

we fitted well until hell broke loose
I want the nut and bolt that we were back

on her back, I, fucking her silly
roll of thunder, nosy neighbours
unable to hear her cry
unable to hear us cry out
oftentimes simultaneously

whatever happened
to joy that was unbearable
to the boy and girl that we were

could we have forgotten how to connect
or how we were connected

box of Chinese rice,
our two pairs of chop sticks, reaching in

she used to open her thighs so wide
when I ate her
or close them about my head and holler

I want her on the floor again
with her panties on the kitchen table
her bra on a nail in the wall

ii.
getting out of bed to write this
wrote something else instead
hope I am able to recall
hope the gist of it still exists, is still in tact

outside of erotic we did make, we did share
in what sharp juxtaposition
times, attempts on your part
to resist my touching you with Eros

holding you with Eros in mind
along with Eros in hand, with Eros in my arms

your occasional attempts, inconsistent attempts
to negate, reverse, to nullify
making you mine, me yours
us an item, as the saying goes

at times you'd do this
such gestures, such words
to undo, to revoke what I'd invoke constantly
attempts without end,
to get your panties off

to get at your pussy lips, with lips, with finger tips
with this same blunt rebuttal I would reject
every gesture or suggestion of friendship

determined not to allow this to take root or grip
take hold or take over
as against such notions
as one cultivating flowers is against weeds

for you, when you choose to rebut,
lovers wouldn't do
just as adamant or more about
not allowing- about not accepting friendship
not at all what I am after
or ever was or ever will be

unless in addition or on top of
the tooti fruti
of what lovers are
of what lovers do

iii.
windows and doors that you have shut
I want open again

remember when rain and sunshine
used to get in, used to be let in

remember the songs you used to sing
songs you used to send

why was this phase
put so quickly behind us

oh this graveyard in our relationship
that we have come to
that we are going through

not at all a delight for me
is it a delight for you
this separation, this living apart
our cruel exchanges
your cold lack of contact


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 2:30 p.m.
on Saturday, November 27
and 4:36 a.m. Sunday,
November 28, 2010

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