Touching want

Dark work thawed in
in the smooth hours
of a soothing, tupelo

palms underneath
a stroked motion.
Fingers lick a wetness

in the night until the body
convulses, the head rolls
back, the undulation

of eyes open,
the legs open,
and the wide mouth
breathes I…want


Hard-on Rob

If you have time, write a nine-line poem using these end-words (in whatever order) from Jay Z’s “Brooklyn Go Hard”: father, Dodger, jack, rob, sin, pen, love, Brooklyn, Biggie.

Yes father,
I sin.
I watch a man as big as Biggie
get juicy as he jacks
off and calls it love-

even while he’s next to me, he feels alone in Brooklyn
but it’s especially when he’s in bed watching the Dodgers
game and I’m fisting a pen,
with a few heaves, that I’m a cheat, hungry without eating, playing “hard-on rob”.