Thursday, September 29, 2011

All the Sprockets of the Universe
for A.G.M.W.

i.
deep down in her, deep within her
invited, I have ventured

what adventure, what adventures
avenues, roads, the tiniest lanes
I have taken, climbing, descending
at times, around sharp curves

curls of pretty hair, from her pretty head
about her pretty face, falling

was I suppose to fall in love
rain falling, water falls falling
in this landscape, in this script

skipped the uninteresting chapters
into deep waters, warm waters, hot springs

things she has done to me,
I have done to her, we have done together
things she does not even know of
unaware of all that she has initiated

sees the poems: is she able
to decode what is encoded in them

if anyone can, Dee can, I'm certain,
knows how my mind works
how my emotions work

knows how my heart races
when there is a race to be run- to be won

one more love affair to climb out of
or to climb down deeper into

deeper down to go in love
into what is too profound
to speak or write of

this poem captures, tells
but a fraction of the friction
of the rub of palms, bellies, bodies,

hairy crotch against hairless crotch
fact or fiction, nation or imagination

you dreamer, some might say
but what do they know of what I live
of what I've lived, of who I love

my heart fell out
into the pool of her cool waters
and down it sank

I'd drown trying to retrieve it
who can reach it- with what extension

length of this poem, indication,
measurement of the depth to which
I've ventured,
into a girl who is a woman now

flown off, gone off to university
all the sprockets of the universe, spinning
we parts of it, hearts lost in it

in love though, who needs hearts
just as well to have flung them away

what does it matter what day it is
what week or what year

ii.
honey in my tea, Année in my teeth

tear her apart, as hungry for her
as the big bad wolf
was for Little Red Riding Hood

this is a wrong equation though
no longer is she
as helpless as that character
Charles Perrault adopted, adapted

as pretty but woman that she is,
that she has become,
intimidates, is dangerous

is able to cause the paws

of the big bad wolf to shake

I know what she does to me
but I face up, do not back down
though I am overwhelmed by her
or almost

what she is capable of, a mystery
what she is capable of
I invite her to do to me

turn upon me, however ferociously
just do not wish her ever
to turn against me

woman like this,
can she be contained in a dish
dessert to consume with a small spoon

or would she spill out, spill over
go back to the wild in an instant

if she does- if she can, as I suspect
I'd want her to take me with her
captive or free
crazy together, how I'd want us to be

carried away to times atavistic
vacation from sedate, polite, well behaved

know she is capable of departure
one character or another
far removed from her own

or an opportunity- an excuse
to be herself- to be ourselves

in a world where it is disallowed,
not permitted, to growl and purr
and claw and crawl

all the way back, all the way forth
through all the creatures we were
and evolved and evolved

into man and woman, wearing clothes
to climb out of, to fling off
to get on with our wrestling match

sweating it out, without a referee
to rule on what is fair and what is foul

we'd make the two-backed beast
and linked like that we'd go back
to being primal
we'd scream our primal screams

what could I not do or she not do
in such a place
in such a state
on such a date


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
Written between 9:00 a.m.,
Saturday, September 24
and 8:05 p.m., Thursday,
September 29, 2011

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