Sunday, January 6, 2008

Have you read about condoms?

"I can still smell you on my fingers."
To catch,
capture blood in skin,
to see the only remainders
of an hour's work: only
plastic, latex, and crust;
scent and must.

However many deep breaths
and "fuck"s you may mutter
whispered in her ear,
talk dirty and make it clear
that you feel secure in her arms.
But know that it
is usually only rewarded
with emotion.

Connecting human lovers,
(sex is) on the surface
tending to the young.
We as lovers (here)
do not comprehend the remainders
that an orgasm leaves behind.
Beyond simply sickly
white, yellow at the tip of a condom
but a permanent imprint
of the cock or cunt
left in the mind
like the favorite song or line
from a favorite movie.
There is nothing cinematic
in the way we bounce on a mattress,
cinematic, no,
but emotionally beyond
all other things.
I love my family,
I love my music,
I love my life,
but I fuck you
and I hold that above the crucifix
that has taken my place
on the wall, in the bedroom which I was comfortable in
my youth.


Blake said...

A bit creepy but then again this is the internet so I can ignore it. This reads very personal. I feel like you're telling me some dirty secret. I like the idea about the orgasm...

"Left in the mind
like the favorite song or line
from a favorite movie.
There is nothing cinematic..."

And although the majority of the poem makes me uncomfortable, I feel like that is one of it's strengths. It sucks you into a world of high school petting and sex paranoia. I also like the Donald Justiceesque ending

I think that when you acknowledge the narrator’s lover with “you” makes the poem a bit forward and uncomfortable. But then again, I think if you put a name there or a “him” or “her” the poem would sound a lot worse.

Keith said...

i can hear john waters narrating this.

"jessica was a very pretty hippo"

once again, my mind corrupted by John Waters.