Wednesday, January 12, 2011

In Conversation
Attempts to Limit
What I can Bring Up
for D.B.A.

want to learn to love you
want to be allowed to love you
like I've not ever loved
like I've not ever learned to love
in this life, in this world, on this earth

want to go as far in love
as I had ever gone and then go on

loving and in love, to new heights
new depths, new lengths, new breadth

new breath
what air is there in loving well

all out for love
fall in love, unable to fall out

falling lower and lower
or deeper and deeper

or do those- do we in love
fall up as stars fall down

are lovers shooting stars

this morning I feel frightened
by how near she seems
another presence in my life
as present as the veins in my body
as the blood in my veins
as the air in my lungs

as present in me as my heartbeat
as my beating heart
as present in me as the life in me

take away my breath, means what
is it about how at present
she affects my breathing

is it about when breathing's difficult
with nothing to do with a cold or a flu

is this because of breakthrough, finally

love truth, us two
what was a wall is a membrane now

our substances able to pass through
two ways, into one something
one substance, into acceptance

it has been a long time coming
after a lot of laboring and longing
after a lot of resistance and accusations

after a lot of faith and commitment
after not having given up or given in
whatever arises, whoever came or comes along

written myself into the heart of the city
walled around like the city of Jerusalem

holy city, holy seat inside it for me finally
holy bed for us to lie in, holy bedspread
holy legs to spread

what do I think of what she has left
seeds and rind of orange and tangerine

what is she resisting, fearing
the possibility of my being able
to cause her to love me against her will

obeah or voodoo
but I is a good Anglican, know nothing
of such things or am I lying

look at what she left and wonder
about why what is shared between us
is so unnaturally shared

all this awkwardness, these unstated thoughts
in spite of her pretense
of intellectual and social sophistication

in spite of her seeming openness and

willingness to integrate

her saliva on these seeds, in rind, sucked, left
upon this plate
how sick would I get, I wonder
were I to suck and chew again
orange and tangerine rind,
again, suck the seeds she left

something about these remains
say so well, she has been here
that she was here and is not now

make me happy and sad combined
so sharp and in such an opposite pull
pain is produced, combined with joy
and I could cry

my God how troubled, how uncomfortable
she is, alone with me, not at all
at home with me

what, I wonder, does she fear
as brave as she is to come
and to come as far as she does

to go as far as we go, as far as we've gone
we've come a long way baby
since June, year-before-last

we have become connected,
we are seldom separated

over what am I at present crying
because of joy or out of self-pity
because I am unfortunate
or because I am lucky

she is all the family I have, you see
she is and means everything to me
in spite of how she treats me
no one else to treat me,
no one else allowed

whatever the quality and quantity
of her love for me, what I've got to live on
to live off, to live of

I live because she allows me to go on living
she is the air I breathe

am I masturbating myself to death
wishing her to love me
wanting her to love me
wishing she'd love me

all I have and how little of her I have
how little of her allowed

is it my old house that she does not like
is it her wish that I build a new one

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
Written between 2:30 p.m. on Sunday,
January 9 and 8:25 p.m. Tuesday,
January 11, 2011


Anonymous d.a. said...

Wow Obi, this poem is comical, romantic, sentimental- it's very touching. I was actually taken aback to see how closely your name resembles obeah. Overall, I think this poem is a perfect reflection of an imperfectly perfect situation. I was also pretty pleased to see no sexual imagery, at least not containing my body, lol(is it okay to laugh on your blog). Thank you so much for the gift of poetry.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011 5:33:00 PM  
Blogger Obie Quiet said...

holy city, holy seat inside it for me finally
holy bed for us to lie in, holy bedspread
holy legs to spread

My darling, do you no longer recognize you body when I draw it for you? Is it possibly because here it is made holy? I must point out though, Dee, that it always is.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011 9:40:00 PM  

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