Volume 16 ~ Spring 2004 ~ ISSN 1543-6063

KARL TIERNEY

Hangover

Fetal days curled up in bed and calling in,
and it is like being sick
jammed back up the womb
with pieces slow to fit the fast night of it.

Evidence crawls from under the blackout:
peep show tokens among spare change
                                    in addition to
a last request on The Stud's notepaper—
"please let me fuck you"
                                                                       over
a drawing of a drooling dick.

The third and final installment is
branded on flesh nearest the heart,
a ring of care that circles my left tit
with teeth marks in the bruise of it,
sore from love
or sick from its lack.

Adonis at the Swimming Pool

Who dances his thighs across the pool's water,
  spread on a mattress bloated from his breath.

Whose ripe-with-sun skin cuts through the spray
  with the alingual grace of a kiss to my brow.

Whose blue eyes flash from under torrents
  and swim my way so wretched in wanting.

Who sips from a warm cocktail as if
  it were Arctic ice splendid in summer.

Who minds not my advantageous looks,
  my devious plots and debonair waves,
  but weighs them for their worth in flattery.

Whose wet curls stroke the evening's earliest gasp
  into naughty tones and murmurs of lust.

Who would have me discussed in seedy cafes
  and ruin me since I'm deaf to the hiss
  behind the teeth in that insipid smile.

Poems © Estate of Karl Tierney 2004. All rights reserved.

Duncan Hannah
www.jamesgrahamandsons.com

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