Wednesday, August 17, 2011

On Sandy Feet
for A.G.M.W.

like you fat, lick you fat
what it is, I am unaware, that flesh affects

more to eat, more for me
more meat upon the bone
is what it is about or largely about or a lot about

a lot instead of a little
that is what you have become

though you are short, what a lot of woman
what a serious amount of you to love

that though is still but a part of it
way you are able to turn, to twist

what you are able to do with your legs
and arms, your eyes and hips

what a variety of postures to run through, swiftly
like scales to play in harmony
and in contrary motion

remember the notes on the piano
when I took lessons
with Meta Davis-Cumberbatch's sister

notes along your spine to play
though I can just look at you and tingle

Vladimir Horowitz comes to mind
his recital upon returning to Russia
after having been in exile for over 60 years

what feels almost as long
is my time of hands-off where you are concerned

used to look without a word expressed
or with a word or two here or there or now or then

now assume time is right or not giving a damn
if it is or not, make the most of you
taste of you, eat of your forbidden fruit

what if it drips- what if it stains
where and when your juices run or drop or drip

let me be caught, what do I care
with evidence in my hands and mouth

every time we've met, earth has seemed
like some other planet

or as if we were butterflies or humming birds
in mid-air, dancing, wings vibrating without ceasing

unable, in your presence, to be still or to keep still
without fail, something spills

what magic beans you fill my hands and pockets with
able to enchant, able to bewitch

you could get hungry there
hungry for something
hungry for supper

to suck her
to fuck her

she could want it
once she's had it

and could salivate to take
and to taste it

silent as a woman is
about such needs

a pussy could scream
could cry, could cry out

for a man, for wood
for manhood,

for mankind
for the kindness of a man

ah, the weight of those
the way to those

waiting to be bare
to bear witness

two bare breasts
nipples protruding
invitation extended
to lick and suck them

what are they like bare
are they like beer
to suck down - to drunk me
to drink until intoxicated

could I take it
if she dropped her draws
discarded brassiere
whirling it and then letting it fly
and land however, wherever

naked before me to adore
to get down on my knees before

V the other way around, up-side-down
to get to the peak of

steeple of the church of love
to venture up into
to love her, to have her
to let her have me

to satisfy her deep yearning
deep need

need I, with what I write,
with songs I sing, ignite in her

light my fire, keep it burning
and I comply
obliged to do so
love to do so

oh how sick I fear I am
do not know with what

know that hours masturbating
hours watching Bat Masterson

have contributed
to what I have come to
I am like something nearly spent

stumble upon her this late in life
just becoming- just become a woman

I look at her, I see her and I want her

how well we relate
from the moment we met
we were friends - what simpatico

only just become of age
and I am hungry, thirsty, horny for her

the right picture or pictures to assist
and I hang on in there
until I have the fits

wish we could have the fits together
I inserted deep in her
could pin her if she got too wild

pin her to the mattress of the bed
with my dick in her
let her flutter until she was finish

until I had come and she had come
until we were both spent
and we could both, upon our backs
panting, collapse, relax

having made love
like a basket weaver
weaves a basket
goes to the market
fills it with fruit

pumpkin, cabbage, carrots, beets
tomatoes, sweet potatoes, yams
sugar apples, sour sop

with her basket on her head
walk home from the market

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
Written between 7 p.m.,
Monday, August 15
and 1:27 p.m., Tuesday,
August 16, 2011


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