It is after midnight.
I lie alone
contorted on my bed,
room lined with
books, pictures, records,
a dozen poems on my desk,
works of beauty wisdom joy wild hearty lusty
obscene reverent ecstatic maudlin curious
erotic mad exuberance and find
imprisoned by my depth of learning feeling searching,
the memory of your too brief possession
paints your face upon a plaster-peeling ceiling,
splays your thighs across a molting rug
and preens your breasts upon a eunuch bed,
amiable and insolent.
The Arabs in my kitchen
rest their arms on six foot muskets,
talk of ancient caravans
God is great.
Examining the invisible evidence of my desire
I smoke a final cigarette.
disdain a blindfold and say:
"I can't forget you."
—From Resonance, a collection of poems
Gary Beck's poetry has appeared in many literary magazines, chapbooks, and collections. His original plays have been produced Off Broadway and toured colleges and outdoor venues. He has been, at various times, a theater director, art dealer, tennis pro, salvage diver, and ditch digger. He currently lives in New York City.
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