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Random Nude Photographs
by Timothy SomersIdle times are these,
hearing my soul wheeze,
and huff and puff with false passion.
Looking down at you,
Looking up at you
makes no nevermind,
the looks not kind
or friendly,
just mechanical.
My mind detaches easily.
My mental fuzz covers your body,
like your apathy coats my tongue
and leadens your leg
draped across my haunches.
Have you always had that mole?
Did you always leave that lamp on?
Am I in Baltimore?
Slippery seems incidentally curious.
Not as, just enough, slightly rough,
It gets the job done
and lets the flesh quiver,
just so.
I used to have to think of baseball,
now,
I hear the birds and highway sounds,
And wonder where my keys are.
How did I ever get
as naked as this with you?
The embarrassment of a whistle,
in my nose,
would be a relief,
comic or otherwise. 07/16/2006 Posted on 07/16/2006
Copyright © 2025 Timothy Somers
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Vere Mantratriad on 07/19/06 at 04:55 AM "How did I ever get
as naked as this with you?" - makes the entire poem. I love this. |
| Posted by Meghan Helmich on 09/19/08 at 03:47 PM i agree with lauren above. also..
"Have you always had that mole?
Did you always leave that lamp on?
Am I in Baltimore?" that is just brilliant. this poem is so dreamy and harsh at the same time. great job, timothy. |
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