Currently Listening to: Please Call me, Baby - Tom Waits (Listen to it! Listen to it! such a good song!)
phew! over a month since my last post. things have been...busy, to say the least. looking into grad schools, applying for jobs, not to mention the hugemungous amount of homework that has been piling up (ew. German.)
but I haven't been so busy that I've stopped writing poetry. here's one:
Spellbinding
The attraction is in the limp wrist
the femininity crisp with voice
a gay poet came to Maine
and I gleaned the silver map
of glistening teeth between
pink lips.
Wanted to part them more with
a kiss
as he reminisced about
kinky transsexual prostitutes,
studded dildos, leather fetishes.
And I caught myself thinking
about Bowie all done up in
androgynous drag
my attraction to waving
blushed pink cheekbones
to shaking sequined square hips
and why it is I want to belong
with them.
As kids, fairies glowed
in jars at the way back of our ego.
and I remember with
brute force verbally assaulting
those someones who said
“that fag plays piano”
and his riot to my title
“That fat dyke”
as I cried in my cut-off shorts
and bright red tights.
looking back, it was less an attack on
us than it was on keeping quiet.
I’d like to say you were the only true
love I’ve had, but that’s only
half-truth, written down, gilded,
bound. It’s in the quibbles and
backward glances I can see origins to
our myth.
at any rate, everyone stops
believing in fairy tales.
I don’t blame yours for ending early.
I’ve curbed my glaring appetite
for flaming specimens of men
but I’ll suspend my diet
when the right one walks in
and he did
and reminded
with clean, cut nails and soft
touch of pages that boys do exist.
Sometimes, when I’m in a fight
or in the heat of the
night with my girl
I’ll remember you, prototype
with your hand on my cheek
your perfect Potter persona
spellbinding
making me ponder what
it is to forgive myself.
