Too Big Eyes
for D.B.A.

is your pussy clean, as dirty as you are

as dirty as you are, how delicious you look

what contrasting ideas
you in your corduroy, blue cap, white T-shirt
and your aqua-blue tights

who snapped this shot
other pictures of you in this outfit
unaware you looked like this
in what you wore to work, to turn heads
to cause hearts, like hooves, to quicken

someone snapped this shot of you
to keep you turned this way

who has taste for woman, for beauty
unable to help but drool

with the men about you in person
for hours, mixing cement, bending over
bending down, sitting down, getting up
I envy them the delight it must have been

your big thighs and where they meet
to make eyes big, too big eyes stare
a pair here, a pair there

how many pairs of eyes upon you
in pretty, dirty tights and T-shirt

construction worker's old brown leather gloves
pants an inch or two below your knees
old shoes on, lower legs bare and dirty too

my God, my girl, how sweet you look
is this Guatemala where you were
laboring, working on a construction site
corn field behind you

my God,
what legs you have, what an anatomy
a common laborer or pretending to be

but what a field of fruit,
clothes and dirt unable to hide
melon to slice open, mouth and tongue
to bury in it, to bite into it

even in this outfit, I could bite you in two
I could eat you


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
8:31 a.m. 02.01.11

Love Underwear
for D.B.A.

1.
able too readily, my darling, Dee,
to turn upon the wrong side
like you did this morning
like you did that evening
Olive Senior gave her lecture
and we listened apart

able to, in an instant,
turn upon the wrong side
on the wrong side
no one to deal with or be with

I tried to stop you leaving
you wouldn't hear me
would not be appeased
turned about or turned around
emotionally or otherwise

you so stubborn, Dee,
when you ready to switch
to be a bitch, to pitch a fit
admit to contributing to it
to being a bit difficult too sometimes
but what of love, at the core
at the door, knocking

what of reason, logic
but girl, your cussing me
certainly arouses me
it gives me a hard on

you know what else does
what did this morning

when you turn from being rough
from playing rough and turn soft
tender, gentle, loving

you looked at me
with something in your eyes
I cannot describe
something moist and warm

what inside to produce such a look
I hardly able to bear
being looked upon like that
switch to that from cussing, fussing, fighting
how wonderfully devastating

we have gotten under each other’s skin
you and I, Dee

you suggest that this miracle
has only happened- is only happening
to me - you lie

what was that if it was not love
that I saw this morning in your eyes

what do you see in my eyes
that you make no mention of

what is it especially that assures you
of my love

what is it that most convinces you
that I am- that I do

you certainly seem convinced
of my commitment
of the strength and depth of it

how deep does your love go
I want to dive in, see if it's sea
or if it's ocean

how awful our break up was this morning
disagreeable girl, what did you think
of my threat of a tamarind switch

one you'd have to- or two
you'd have to plait into one yourself
for me to give you the whipping
you at times deserve

the whipping you'd go out of your way to earn

I just want to love you, Dee, punish you
with my tongue lapping, between your legs
like waves

2.
drank your juice
cup containing it
you had set upon the floor
you had crossed your legs
your left foot- your shoe bottom
dangling over the uncovered cup

love and loved the spontaneity
of your motion, your moving about
of all your prankish activity
but cup with juice upon the floor
is for me a no no

careless about what might drop off
dust off your shoe bottom

hypochondriac that I am
think, hours after, of that equation

cup upon the floor, your flat foot
in your shoe, dangling, mindlessly
over it

think of what I'm eager to- willing
to do to you-
what I'm wiling to suck and to lick,
fuck and prick

trust that I can take you into my mouth
without thinking twice
without worry at all

but might you be as careless
with your uncovered cut
as you were with orange juice
in an uncovered cup

my black mug for tea
I served you juice in

3.
is she an ass or what
to make subordinate
to her affair with a boyfriend
Baptist minister's son
what she and I are sharing
what she and I are working on

we are in the forefront
of what is happening
in Bahamian literature
as well as upon a lofty plain
in what is happening
in literature in the Caribbean

what she and I are sharing,
creating, a phenomenon
of all time and in all the world
or it very well can be

this dynamic, this activity
she places or wishes to place
beneath her play play love affair

how can she give that
greater significance
than this frontier we're on
where we've been cast
upon which we find ourselves

am I to conclude that she
does not know what to value how
without a clue about
the value of art, hers or mine
or art period

she it is who insists upon
rubbing paintings on canvas
with her open palm like a JA
is it that she is unaware
of the value and significance
of what we are involved in
in spite of the plateau
up to which I've elevated her
up to which I've pulled her
her along with her art

more than 75 % of all I write
of all I've written in 12 months
is of her

all of this, all of these
beneath the feet
of her boyfriend and her
poetry for them two
to trample over –
to trample on –
to trample across

fuck her if she is unaware
of the high high shelf
upon which literature
upon which art belongs

must rescue poetry
from beneath her feet
elevate it to heaven
from where it came
to earth, to us

but not intended
to be trampled on
not for her to clean her hip with

offered to clean her hip
with my tongue,
lick it until clean
do what dogs do

poetry of that though
don't suppose she can appreciate

how can I put first
who'd put poetry second
or put poetry last
or put poetry down


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
Written between 3:05 p.m. on Monday,
March 14 and 2:18 a.m. on Wednesday,
March 16, 2011

Face It
for Sloan Smith

I am in enough trouble as it is
with forbidden tree
with forbidden fruit
but how tasty it is to look

I see so many of the persons
closest to me
in her eyes, on her face,
in her bones and hands
in fleshy parts, in fleshy places

in her dress and shoes,
with 6-inch heels,
in black bracelet that she wears

is it a wig she wears
hair down to the top of her back

upper back bare
her legs, mostly bare also
how her high heels
cause her legs to go

wall of square tiles
she presses palms against
floor of tiles, of larger squares

why though did she decide
to stand just there
where is this where she is

what she's wearing,
attired in, for what outing
as sexy as could be
as pretty as could be

why the decision to be
photographed from behind

what thoughts behind
the picture taken
behind the poem written

behind or before
actions taken from waking up
to going back to bed each day
from being born
to being dead

I've put a wrong word in
added a word I should not have

was this not meant to be
a happy poem, a cheerful song


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
2:28 p.m. 07.03.11

Substantive
Substances
for D.B.A.

you are not even a little bit
better than I am, my darling
that I reject utterly and entirely

your response to me or to my response
to you, implies that you are- because young
or because female or because of these combined,
one price meat and I, another

certainly to your mind, I am much much less expensive

a pound or more of mine, of me, of meat that I am
not enough to trade for an ounce of the meat
that you are

more like the difference, the price
of an ounce of silver, compared with
the price or worth of an ounce of gold

but you are silver and I am gold
in spite of your being young, in spite
of your being female

all this time to cultivate, refine, accumulate
the substance comprising me

how can we compare 19 with 56
and what we've been able to put
in these years or to have, for 19 years,
compared with 56 years, maintained, unscratched
that core, of which Earnest Hemingway
often wrote and often spoke

you are wonderful, I have been as wonderful
for a longer time

it is in you that I see myself reflected
my love and passion for you have to do with
my being able to love myself in you
like I could not otherwise

I am not in love with you because
you are wonderful and I am not
not because you are cheese
and I am snot


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
11:48 p.m. 07.03.11

A Heart-in-the-bag
for D.B.A.

let the miracle be love actually
where these differences are
where these conflicts occur

so if I am not loved in return
or not loved as I'd have wished I was
am I to cut off, am I to cease loving
or am I instead to weep
through heartache, through heartbreak

is being in love about its being reinforced
responded to positively
or being or what is true being
in spite of whether it is encouraged
or not encouraged, celebrated
or not celebrated

do you think of what I want
of what would make me happy
of what I need to be happy

the points we come to-
the edges we've been on or out on
the things we've been through
the pains and times of laughing out loud

I am sure that time and time again
with words, I've made her pussy wet
made her cunny hole leak molasses

she refuses to tell me when she has
or when she is having her period
she just shuts off, cuts off, shuts up
if I ask- whenever I ask

I must abide what I must abide
put up with what I must put up

tossed is what I am, by her, by love
I must let it, let them toss away

how far will it or will she fling me I know not
I want to trust love and her, want to trust
loving her

will I be stepped on or walked on
might she wipe her feet off on me
should I mind- should it matter

the glass that my heart is or that it's in
can break again, can shatter

I shudder at the thought
like I would or do in cold weather

is she concerned that I am well
that I am warm
or if I'm well and warm or not

contact between us, fortunately,
since we met, has gone- goes on
with gaps but without being interrupted

like life line or fishing line
but who is fishing and who is caught

how the fish dances out in the ocean
at the end of the line, unable to free itself

rises, falls back, splash - splash after splash

similarly, we are at two ends of a poem
of poetry, hers and mine

she said she has done nothing
to cause me to love her as I do
she didn't have to

it was, in heaven, already done
where things are perfectly done

all she did was to walk into the room
when she walked out, my heart,
with her books, was in the bag
across her arm


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
2:53 p.m. 06.03.11

Rope
for D.B.A.

1
I want to sacrifice
what I sacrifice for you

I want to put out
as much as I put out

dig down, deep down as I dig
to root up, to uproot
what I uproot

you, shallow, resist me
doing this, my going as deep as I go

do not want to have to
in response, go as deep
want to keep it shallow

don’t want me therefore
to go too deep to cause you
to feel guilty or put upon

at 19, committed
be being superficial
at least with me, with your pussy
not yet unzipped
zipped shut still

want to unzip it, unbutton it
with my tongue, with teeth

want to eat your pussy open
its lips apart, get to your heart

up to it,
enter in where your thighs open

2
taste in my mouth, she'd put there

at times, her tongue in my mouth
would taste like sawdust
like what I am unable to swallow
unwilling to swallow

tasteless, she'd serve me
what she'd serve me, unbearable
what she'd offer me to eat

instead of her ass hole
her pussy hole: wet spitty lips

3
she’s in love with a man
who’s 56 years old
or he’s in love with her

one way or another,
they are going together
going somewhere or another

neither of them desiring to let go
though the rope at times
too swiftly, passes
through his fist or hers
and they holler, “Ow!”
but grip it up again

gain or loss, faced with
these options,
choose not to lose
but to hang on, hang in, hold on
and not let go

things to sow, it’s the season to do so


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
Written between 1:50 a.m. and 3:49 a.m.
on Saturday, March 5, 2011

What If

what if in The Bahamas
Haitians got the upper hand

and commenced rounding up Bahamians
and detaining them in detention centres

to be sent off, like American Indians,
to some reservation on a family island or on several

or in concentration camps
like Jews, to exterminate


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
10:42 p.m. 05.03.11

Does not Lift a Finger
Has A Straw to Add
for D.B.A.

i.
to have said that you do nothing
and that you have done nothing
to cause me to love you

does it mean that you INSIST
upon doing nothing
while at the same time
INSISTING that I do for you

make so many sacrifices
on your behalf
for no reward
already given
or to await

ii.
D’Anthra admitted
on the phone just now
that she does nothing
and has done nothing
to cause me to love her as I do

on the other hand though
she does certainly require
demand, expect a lot of me
because of my love for her

she is certainly utilizing it to the max
getting from it
every advantage she can get

and giving and is prepared to give
not a fucking thing back

she should be ashamed therefore
to admit contributing
and to having contributed nothing

this is to admit that she requires much
and gives nothing back
that she desires and is prepared
to give nothing back

if she gives and will give nothing,
similarly, shouldn’t she require nothing

are her requirements though
are they not therefore, something
that she gives if nothing else

is even that
not something that she gives BACK

is this too fine
or too negative a point of contribution
for her to recognize

is what she does give,
too fine for her to put into language,
to put into words

already you know she has a LAZY mind
too lazy even, most of the time
to bother to be polite,
to bother to be gracious


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
Written between 4:55 p.m. and 6:11 p.m.
on Saturday, March 5, 2011

Jack-in-the-box
for D.B.A.

it is the same complaint you see
stuff I’ve stated well before
more than once before

wake up with this poem
with its perfect lines
going on, going round in my head
repeated and repeated

order of its lines,
alternating in my head
is one thing, one state, one place

lying awake, dreaming
well rested or somewhat

attached to pen though
pen attached to paper
to notebook page

though the ink on the page
is like a vehicle's rubber tires
attached to a tarred road,
as it passes, as it crosses

the pen, its ball point, rises and falls
bounces and skips
like a stone across water
like a ball, like a heart beats
up and down, hopping

clown at a circus, hopping,
on one foot and then on the other
audience to entertain

the heart beats, blood flows
clock ticks and time flows

Hemingway, upon the battle field,
injured, bleeding, dying,

blood flowing from him along with life
he said was like a silk handkerchief
being pulled out of a breast pocket

she puts me, pushes me
places me beneath her boyfriends
like jack-in-the box
whether I fit or not

forces me to fit where I do not fit
where I do not belong

in a tin with a lid
but I keep popping out
with the noises I make
with all my protestations

in response to her
inappropriate treatment

mistreatment, payment
for doing what a man does
what a man can

wanting what a man wants
needing what a man needs

I get less than what boys get
wonder what they do get
what they are allowed
that I am not

I am hardly allowed air
bread and water
a prisoner is allowed
she is reluctant to give
reluctant to serve me
reluctant to save me

love-stricken, love struck
in love stuck, with her stuck
but she can just watch me die
like Gabriel García Márquez’
old man with enormous wings

similarly treated
similarly assumed to be
from heaven fallen
or from hell, catapulted up

she does not seem to think
I need loving, required of her

the order of love I give
I shower her with

I am a fire
she needs shove no wood in
add no fuel to

throws whatever on it, wet rag
wet leaves

what does she care
if this love lives or dies

important though that its flames
do not leap higher than those
of affairs of boyfriends

man mixed up in
small children’s concerns
in the dolly house
or dolly houses
of love

how am I to fit in
relegated to what
she relegates me to

can she stuffs me in
I without end pop out
poems like fire works
without end going off
unable to help exploding
complaining, being angry

heaven, fix this
you, who else,
has me in such a fix
in such a flux
in such a fit
in such an outfit


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
1:40 p.m. 05.03.11

Ink Pen Drawn
for Jackson & Pam & D.B.A.

1.
people who smoke marijuana
are not in their right minds
they’re in their left minds
in what’s left of their minds
they’re in the wrong frame
in the wrong state of mind

2.
always in a hurry when she comes by
time enough only to squeeze out
what she needs- wants- has to squeeze out
and out she pulls and off she goes

3.
thought he shied away from erotica
from getting his face and hands
and paint brushes in it

but he can draw breasts as well
and as readily as some these days
are able to draw blood

hairy Suzie of this model is as well
included here

4.
always trying to reframe us or me
our love or love
as if she knew anything at all
about framing
as if she or anyone
were able to frame
or tame a hurricane

5.
always pulling away from me
but she is always with me
never apart from me

how though can she be
as tied as we are by lines of her poetry
or my many poems of her

more poems I write of her
pull her nearer and nearer to me
or do they provide
a longer and a longer rope
for her to dangle off, stray away

we’ve begun to fight physically
or to play rough
she’s tough, you see, or tries to be

paradox of our closeness
and our distance apart
thought of which got my note book out
my ink pen drawn, caused tears to gather
me to well up and to holler also, in alto

though at once
too bitter and too sweet to bear
as much as I suffer, as uncertain as this is
some friend recently told me,
“You are lucky to be in love,”
said she envies me my situation

I am like a boat upon waves
merciful and merciless

though I might sing,
I have no say


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
Written on Friday,
between 4:33 p.m. and 5:45 p.m.,
March 4, 2011

Ariel
for D.F.

denied you last evening
like Peter did Christ

“Do you know her?” I was asked
and I said, “She is pretty,
“But I don’t think we have ever met.”

it was my niece’s husband
who discovered you and me,
linked together, online,
your facebook account and my blog

he called me away from dinner
already I was the last person dining

my siblings and I, gathered
to celebrate my sister Marjorie’s
68th birthday

Ian, who was sharing you with me,
asking if I knew you,
is Marjorie’s son-in-law

for the life of me
I was unable to recall
when or where we might have met

it turned out to be a matter of angle
the fact that I was regarding you
on the screen of the monitor
of Ian’s computer, standing,
looking over his shoulder

came home
after emphatically denying knowing you
and with the mouse in my fist,
I could get a grasp of you again as well

my God, how could I have forgotten
one of my very finest theatre experiences
you in the Tempest, at the Dundas

our encounter after,
out on the terrace of the theatre,
carried away, lifted you off your feet

without a second thought,
gave you Christmas Lights,
Poems to Sit On to Shell Peas
and On The Hinges of this Town
what were then my 3
most recently published books

you knew who I was
while I was there thinking
you must have, that evening,
fallen from heaven

how transported I was
by your performance

saw you on TV recently,
promoting “Crazy Love,”
film you have a part in

is it worthy of Ariel
from the Tempest

you could inspire me
to write a play, to write plays
for you to appear in
the way Pedro Almodovar
is inspired to make films
for Penelope Cruz to appear in

I had not recalled hearing
of your time spent in China,
on the stage there and in England

did not recall hearing either
that you are a lawyer

however could I not
have recognized you last evening
or remembered Dana Ferguson
along with other details discovered
discovered your boyfriend also

I suppose he is made
of some special material
cut from some very fine cloth
to match what you are made of
pretty lady, divine someone

interesting, my thinking you young
when we met, born in 1981
year my younger daughter was born

would you believe, I am in love
with a brilliant girl, a fellow poet,
a few months left before
she concludes high school,
IB, grade 13, she is just 19
born a decade after you were, in 1991


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
1:03 a.m. 28.03.11

Sweet Caroline
for D.B.A.

how do I explain
hitting you and hurting you
outside of or apart from
that incident resulting from
giving everything and getting nothing
or little or nothing back

your,
"Don't touch me! Don't touch me!"
is not to attempt to bar me from
unbuttoning or unzipping
or unsnapping your bra
and blouse and jeans
and whatever else
you happen to have on

it is instead to bar me
not from our getting into bed together
between bed spreads

it is not to bar me from your bed room
nor to bar me from your house

anywhere near is too near
is too close for comfort

I am, without end, being barred
from even- from ever entering your yard

what if you have access
to my heart and pockets
to my bank account

you can reach however far into me
pull out whatever or however much

I cannot touch the hem of your garment
without you suggesting
I sully or am sullying what is- who is holy

your resistance suggests
that I am out to hurt you, out to harm you

hit you to show you how very different
these two intentions are

but you are too precious to touch
to lay a hand or finger on

after you are allowed to- trusted to
handle and to manhandle my heart
or any other drum of mine that beats

what's to become of us- of me
harmless as a butterfly
treat me- respond as if
I were a wasp or a bee

not allowed to alight anywhere
upon any limb- anywhere upon
your anatomy or face
not even with kisses
when we were greeting or parting

too precious you are,
you are not to be touched

I can be kicked or slapped up
or stepped on and I must grin
I must bear it

I must like it and give gifts and finances
to show appreciation

if that ain't a lump of shit

what a lump of shit you are
I could spit, get over this, get this over with


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
1:36 a.m. 04.03.11