![]() twenty-twoA Poem by Daniel Atkinsondrunk on mouthwash it’s funny the kick the very muleness of it funny gangling and gawking and pimple-scarred and beating on the breast of manhood with jagging f*****g knuckles you’re funny you’re a man you’re funny you’re funny, man and the jokes the saliva spray you taste stale beer on your upper lip beaded into the crumbs of a nothing moustache you’re tired but you refuse to feel it you’re tired because you don’t want to dream you fear them you want to writhe to pulse to hate and she’s shooting her glances and you’re ignoring them and you’re lost in your blood lost in THE RUMBLE OF A LIONHEART screaming youth shooting from your eyes neglectful sleepless angry wheeling walking death you’re hot somehow and she’s still looking at you and you’re wondering why her mouth is creased and she’s breathing heavy through her nose and there’s a whiny whistle and you remember an afternoon in the dying bluster of a high school summer when you nestled like tired geese into a patch of daisies and kissed the sweat from each other’s foreheads and exchanged airs and you were breathless and thrumming with need and love and tangled desires and she was queen of all the cosmos, green-eyed and frightening and yours and ah, here’s the pizza. © 2021 Daniel Atkinson |
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