Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Bridge Across Apart
for D.B.A.

i.
barrier that she tries
to set up between us
when there is none

when barrier between us
is as thin as ink, as thin as a page

uses pretense, pretends to be
in a bad mood

barrier she erects, cruel and painful
the lie this is, this artificial partition
defense when none is needed

fortress against the enemy
she turns against me, against love

thighs together, thighs apart
where pussy is placed, not easy to access

the most secret, most inaccessible
corner or pocket of a woman's body
pocket of sweetness

to pork it, to poke it I'd need her
to invite me, to let me

bad mood, genuine or pretended
as much against her own desires
against what she craves as much
as I might

what she does to guard against
desires, her own,
inaccurate, inappropriate defense

opposition she sets up
when I am not the opponent
she takes me for
or thinks I am

needs to get to know me
need to get to know her
both of us need to get past fiction
embrace each other

love alone able to save us from drowning
in the hate and hurt of this world

what of history- of her history
has taught her- has caused her
to be as suspicious as she is,
unnecessarily

ii.
stormy and good weather
alternating between these

divine the switch, the shift
what would have inspired it

from enemy to friend
from miles apart in a studio
to hugging me, to being in my arms

from alien and alienation
to some degree- some sort
of intimacy

a few miles short of intercourse
but a far cry from Africa
is from the new world

what stands between us
I wish I knew

ah, heavens, look down on us
smile down on us

enough of tears,
of joy torn in two

in joy together, her and me
how happy we can be

glimmers, signs of it
in what happened yesterday
after school, after 4

the distance we crossed
the bridge across apart
silly sweetheart, could die for her
only want to reach her

all these poems to join us
to tie us together

poems to stitch us together
in our veins and arteries
in our shit and in our pee

want to drink her pee
spouting from her pussy

ideas like these
inspire her to act
as if shell shocked

but poetry is one thing
where we meet, another medium

another entity, another cup
of tea or pee or coco


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
Written between 9:25 p.m.
on Tuesday, January 18 and 12:47 a.m.
on Wednesday, January 19, 2011

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