Without a thought in my head
my penis grows and shrinks
at inches.
(Not always for vanity's sake
but out of sheer surprise at what it does
we all love to watch our bodies
& are proud of at least one feature)
And when I wipe my ass
it tucks itself inward, embarrassed,
wanting so badly to rejoin the body.
Which is curious and makes sense.
Every day, all it does is expel,
protrude, interrupt. We are allowed
to be shy about ourselves, a bit ashamed
of our purpose, but when touch
is involved, we shrink easily into the
warmth:
I'm tired of my day,
touch me and let me creep inside
the heat you so lovingly give.
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1 comment:
ha, ok. first of all - really raunchy and graffic - which is alright, but it needs cleaning up. The line "we all love to watch our bodies" in the first stanza is the strongest -- it seems very matter of fact, but it's not - and it's something I think belongs later in the poem. the body stuff -- gross! maybe it's just because i know you, and i now i am forced to picture you wiping your ass --eeeeeeeek!! BUT, after getting over that, I think what this poem needs is motion and the way to do it is put the action first -- show the body doing its weird shit right off the bat with no extra explanation. Then you can easily say " --but after sheer surprise, we all love to watch our bodies." What's interesting to me about this poem is the oddity of the things you talk about - shitting and sex, but also that we are all mesmerized by our bodies and from there comes the inherent urge to bind them together -- I gathered that from your last stanza. I think that you have to make the reader mesmerized by these crude and weird things that the body does so that they understand WHY it is you are talking about wiping your ass ;)
Hope this helps!
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