Will Russo
Nothing Stuck
My cousin called me
girly and I've been scared
of him since. Six plus
years my junior. One
cloudy afternoon on
a cigarette couch a decade ago
at least. Wonder what
he is now. When I was that young
I sat and did nothing
and nothing stuck. Easy.
Devoid. Untethered. Fast
in a hard shell. Myspace,
Google Image Search for men
in underwear. I craved
the routine of night though
it rusted me, brought decay
to life and grew into me.
Ownership by what broke off
by force, what part was
mine by grabbing. Relic,
flared shard—accident, and I’m
blamed, flame-throttled, smoke
doled out in metered damage.
Fill me. Pin me down. Please,
sir. I'm yours. No really.
Make use of me. Spit, spill
something, cover my eyes.
Go deep. There, touch that
spot. Yeah. There. Reach.
girly and I've been scared
of him since. Six plus
years my junior. One
cloudy afternoon on
a cigarette couch a decade ago
at least. Wonder what
he is now. When I was that young
I sat and did nothing
and nothing stuck. Easy.
Devoid. Untethered. Fast
in a hard shell. Myspace,
Google Image Search for men
in underwear. I craved
the routine of night though
it rusted me, brought decay
to life and grew into me.
Ownership by what broke off
by force, what part was
mine by grabbing. Relic,
flared shard—accident, and I’m
blamed, flame-throttled, smoke
doled out in metered damage.
Fill me. Pin me down. Please,
sir. I'm yours. No really.
Make use of me. Spit, spill
something, cover my eyes.
Go deep. There, touch that
spot. Yeah. There. Reach.
Pusher
R and I were pushing each other
down over and over, laughing and
laughing.
down over and over, laughing and
laughing.
Scratch that. Not each other.
Just me the pusher. Don't mount me—
I dictated.
Just me the pusher. Don't mount me—
I dictated.
Down his knuckles ribs teeth
poked. My hand
offer, draw:
poked. My hand
offer, draw:
flat, cupped or clenched
firm near skin near skin.
firm near skin near skin.
In this game I'm liked. The humor transfers.
I play not caring
how it could change us
—everything one
rough stroke from ending.
I play not caring
how it could change us
—everything one
rough stroke from ending.
A hand curls crosses mirrors
and bends into hook,
hinge. Takes his beauty
for frailty in our basement
and bends into hook,
hinge. Takes his beauty
for frailty in our basement
spar. Power. This game
I can't bear—though mount, I would.
If asked.
I can't bear—though mount, I would.
If asked.
What laughs I had
over him. Good sport.
over him. Good sport.
Aubade
Our half-sleep—
grain and static, minutes
studded feather
and flame, a shoulder
sheet a neck a knee—
grain and static, minutes
studded feather
and flame, a shoulder
sheet a neck a knee—
In a small bed
we'd stayed up trying
to become one.
we'd stayed up trying
to become one.
In the morning remains
oatmeal crusted to the bowl.
Fiber on the counter.
oatmeal crusted to the bowl.
Fiber on the counter.
I watch a shunned man lurk
around another love. Eh...
around another love. Eh...
A view of the shore. Snow
has walked down to meet the slough water.
has walked down to meet the slough water.
Note: "Aubade" borrows a line from the Robert Bly poem, "Looking at New-Fallen Snow from a Train."
(High,) Thinking of M
At first a shatter
of panic, of who
could forget who, un-
forgiving and final. Walk out
like a walk-off walks
out. What is it about
abandon? Second thought,
who cares—he has a kid now,
he did forget and so did I.
At lunch at school, he rolled
the filmy linoleum,
drew himself up belly-down
to the bench, his head a note
my crotch read. Pegs dug
into the backs of my calves.
Him, the near-graduate, un-
questioned and willing to
bend—that masculine.
The pull of tide,
gravitation, melt. Greed
and swoop in the bring-back.
Come back.
of panic, of who
could forget who, un-
forgiving and final. Walk out
like a walk-off walks
out. What is it about
abandon? Second thought,
who cares—he has a kid now,
he did forget and so did I.
At lunch at school, he rolled
the filmy linoleum,
drew himself up belly-down
to the bench, his head a note
my crotch read. Pegs dug
into the backs of my calves.
Him, the near-graduate, un-
questioned and willing to
bend—that masculine.
The pull of tide,
gravitation, melt. Greed
and swoop in the bring-back.
Come back.
Inheritance
Heads shaved
immaculate missed
curfews wrecked
cars how to raise
a note a knot fingers
dad used to clutch
hair in a fist
with a child sitting on
a stack of planks legs dangling
from the top beam grandpa
held with the heft
of his ass he lifted
lowered tilting toward
then away from
collapse he meant to make
a boy hinge two dents draining
blood from his skull
my crooked teeth
my steady hands
immaculate missed
curfews wrecked
cars how to raise
a note a knot fingers
dad used to clutch
hair in a fist
with a child sitting on
a stack of planks legs dangling
from the top beam grandpa
held with the heft
of his ass he lifted
lowered tilting toward
then away from
collapse he meant to make
a boy hinge two dents draining
blood from his skull
my crooked teeth
my steady hands
