Words for Wednesday : Poetry by David Smith :


This Heart | David Smith

Her kisses open holes in the skin
large enough for us to climb in
lighting the torch next to this heart,
every bit of it in every bit of it.

Rotating her piston hips,
she is all bold colors
and appealing design,
the dye molecules of my retinas
vibrating at 700 trillion times per second,
so fast that I can see beyond the color yellow,
the small wire stretched within this heart
exploding like an open window in winter,
every bit of us in every bit of us.

We like to mess around with the neighborhood kids,
changing the dog’s name while out for his afternoon walk.
“Aw what a cute puppy. Hey mister, what’s his name?
“Often my answer is,
“His name? We call him King of the Jews.”
Blank stares meeting a borrowed smile,
Christmas in July.
She never corrects me.
Never sets the kids straight.
Never tells them that the dog’s
actual name is Reggie.
She lets this lie hang between us
like a cloud of cigarette smoke
at a bridal shower.
All of our history compressed
into these small moments.

This heart can vibrate fast enough
to levitate large stones.
This heart contains more energy
than is expressed in the known universe.
Cut this heart in half and both halves
will contain the entire heart.
Cut both of those halves in two again
and the resulting pieces
will contain the entire heart,
and so on and so forth.

This heart we share
wrapped in ermine and black leather,
stretched from eye to I,
pulsing with the quiet distemper
of 100 flowers bathing in the rain.


David Smith’s Facebook
This poem can be found in David’s latest & amazing collection of poetry, White Time published by Off Beat Pulp.

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