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Five Poems
by Jesse Bradley
The Kama Sutra of Joe Francis
I only like my women encased
in glass; worry not about the size
of the air holes.
Press your areolae against the pane.
I can taste the grain you were cut
from: ruptured latex, smudged
phone number, amnesiac paternity;
we're perfect together, see?
Princess, you will swallow me
like a poison apple. When you
wake up, please sign the form;
I will immortalize you in cellophane.
The Kama Sutra of Emily Dickinson
I will get up on you
like a garden trowel; prepare
to chew your soiled panties--
dying posies.
I hear solitude lubes you up
like the hinges on a pew;
I won't bother getting off
my knees.
You will feel Death galloping
in your pelvis. I will knit hymns
from your silence.
The Kama Sutra of Medusa
No mirrors, please. I can't
bear watching you pretend
that your penis is Perseus.
I wish you would open
your eyes, stop knotting
my hair into the woman
you once called "yours".
In the morning, I will awake
alone. You will brag
to your friends how you
mounted my head, how
I spread for you like
a rumor.
If you weren't as distant
as stone, I would have
immortalized you.
The Kama Sutra of Alzheimer’s
I will shake names, places
out of you so we may have
a captive audience.
I will scratch my mouth
like a record, remind you
we've done this before.
You will gnaw on this moment
like a moth, ask why I wear
lunar eclipses on my chest.
I will erase the mixtape
in my arms, re-record them
onto your hips.
The Kama Sutra of Joe Wilson
Pulling on my neck tie doesn't
stop me from talking; I will wheeze
all over your rack like an unfinished
tracheotomy.
Truth be told, I like you better
when you are two-dimensional;
I will wear you like a nest
of paper cuts.
The walk of shame you take
after our sweaty filibuster
will be all the censure
I need.
J. Bradley is the author of Dodging Traffic, his first collection of poetry published by Ampersand Books. Numerous traditional and online journals feature his work. Lust for him at iheartfailure.net. |
