The Incredible Shrinking Man By accident, I fucked an angry midget, A control freak with a cruel streak Who made a hobby of fracturing Women In quiet, persistent ways Until on ordinary mornings They would rise from his cock To flip pancakes in a flowery robe And he would leave without a word Brushing fragments of their flesh From his tiny demolition hands, Rubbing blood out of His surgical eyes. Knowing this, I put on The dragonfly sheets And slicked my raven hair Into a tight French twist And scooted down in bed So he would feel tall And sometimes in his eyes Softened by peppermint candles, I saw a regular sized boy Begging for his angry mother's affection Getting smaller with every way He planned to crush her When he grew up big. Shadow Play Scientists on Montserrat Say rain causes volcanic eruptions, My labrador has become fearful Of shadows, howling, grunting, Snapping at the air. Your silence on this day Trickles into my cupped hands, If I don't tremble soon I will overflow with your absence, I will be required to speak first And lose, I will have to blink, Sooner perhaps, Erase myself with your Vagueness. I water the window box fairy's thimble In chewed bunny slippers and feed The deadly nightshade from the pail Mixture. Stone gray clouds finger a cherry sun. I wait in my grandmother's rocking chair For the glint of your white car Through the bent cobalt willows. Sometimes it scares me too Where my shadows fall. The Case For Bestiality "My god, you're beautiful in this position!" Whimpers The Lover With no view of my face. "A goat would be stunning With your cock in it's mouth!" I accuse. "I'll come by the office" He whines, lip curling, "And you won't say a word But rise to lock the door And you'll twirl off your panties And sit on my face And bad girls get a spanking by the boss, Elbows on desk, I'll take your ass And believe me it will hurt at first And you'll say STOP and I'll keep Pounding and I'll be done and you will Beg for more And I will leave without a single word." Calmly we dress and make our exit. He stops to lock the hotel room door As if some thief might steal his semen From the cherry desk or the gold Pillow or the dice patterned carpet. At times I worship him, others I think Bestiality should be legal And some men who shall remain nameless Should be strictly limited to goats. To The Bat Who Ate A Lion Already I miss it, "Be that as it may", The 3 A.M. light under the bedroom door, Your fingers on the violin, the safety chirp of Your midlife crisis car, the longest, most Intelligent explanations of things completely Mistaken, Your tangent about advertising being Mostly voodoo, your whimpery panting against The back of my neck, your cry of "Don't move, It's too good." I miss anticipating your hands on me from across White linen and crystal, your tease-barking at The dog, your hiccup after pears, high pitched Recount of the latest speeding ticket, copper Cup of Kahlua and coffee, casual perch, ankle Of your crossed leg touching mine, the hotel Robe thrown on for room service, your Fully clothed business voice on the phone, the Darting eyes of a racing mind, the sound of your Shiny black shoes on the staticky rug, your hands Behind head for a yawn, your mock smile of Shock and amusement, the snap of your spoon Cracking the creme brulee, The lion you trained to chase me Holding its hot mouth tamely around my head, My tight French twist tickling its tonsils. (c) Rebecca Lu Kiernan 2003 |
Rebecca Lu Kiernan is editor of the print literary, GECKO. With a recent Rhysling nomination her fiction has appeared in MS. MAGAZINE, ASIMOV'S SCIENCE FICTION, SPACE AND TIME, NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW and others. Her collection of erotic poetry, SEX WITH TREES AND OTHER THINGS EQUALLY RESPONSIVE was published by 2 River Press. |
