Monday, December 06, 2010

Tenderhearted Times
for L.B-C. & D.B.A.

I haven't any elsewhere
away from or in addition to
the place where poetry is made
where art comes into being as she does

she goes and comes, she comes and goes
at times away from her and me, from art
for what would or could seem like ages

with this disloyalty, this division, I am impatient
always was, always will be

able to put art poetry and me second
has taught us, with her, to do the same
to demote her also

deceived into thinking initially
that we had her attention

that we came first in her heart
her hands - her eyes, her mind

remember the noise
of our attempted kiss, in 1986
against the quiet of Nassau Public Library

that octagonal building, down town, Nassau
which was once a prison

where we were was once a cell
we two, too free, walls on all sides
lined with books

what a daring moment that was
teacher and pupil in the public library
downtown, kissing or trying to

nervous, elated, awkward, out on a limb
and falling off, kissing or trying to
and trying to keep our balance

how many moments like that, shared
in our brief affair

opposition to it arising,
threatening, frightening

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 2:40 p.m. and 3:29 p.m.
on Monday, December 6, 2010


Anonymous d.a. said...

You and your juxtaposition of women in your life as if it hasnt gotten you into enough mess.

I do love the poem-the romantic shift that it is from sinking to wreckage no? It's very much like fairy dust it's all through and you seem to be holding on to. Is she holding on too?

Monday, December 06, 2010 7:01:00 PM  

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