Behind Closed Doors

It’s a main squeezer, tense-bellied teaser
Pushing the tainted pleasure-receiver;
Curl your toes, you white-eyed believer,
And widen your stance: this one’s a heaver.

You issue a gasp, or maybe a sigh–
A moaning reminder why you’re tense-thighed–
Or maybe a groan, a prayer to the sky:
A mantra in tongues, in curses and cries.

It’s starting to surface, rumbling within,
A sign that something is coming again.
Abdomen-tensing, the room starts to spin;
Chin up and tensed up, release can begin.

It’s a main-squeezer, and surely a rush,
Lacking all lust but still bringing a blush;
Some easy breathing should bring down face-flush,
So pull up your pants. Remember to flush.

~Michael Danger Caskey

Hashtagging

Hashtagging

I must have been cross-eyed and unsatisfied
When I was born: an outlier, but I’ve tried
To Like the Facebook posts that fill my feed
With endless lists—ten things that I can’t miss,
A video who’s end I have to see,
Another puppy pic, go team, click this,
Click that, and Like this thing if you agree—
But selfie pictures only make me wish
That I was living in their background space:
Pastoral fields passed over for a face.

Among those meadows made of grass and muck,
I’d leave behind my high-top Converse Chucks
To feel the brush across my tender soles.
I’d pull the earbud plugs from either ear
So i could hear the wind across the knoll
Whose bushes’ foliage sings ever-clear
That leafy crackle: knowledge true, but old.
I’d pick a fruit from branch-bred chandeliers
Whose taste would be too good for one; I’d share,
But by my side, I’d find no others there.

So those discarded shoes would clasp my feet
Like black-thread mourning garb, or funeral sheet,
And I would turn back on my darkened phone
To check the texts I’d never seen, but missed,
And see the friends I’d gained while so alone.
I’d take its camera with an angled wrist,
Positioning the wold behind just so,
And capture it in picture form to list
Top ten Edenic places one must go:
Hashtag blackberrying, hashtag Thoreau.

~Michael Danger Caskey

Without a Filter

I’m tired of your wine-and-dine parade of foods,
Unfiltered for the full effect and captioned too:
It’s “just a little snack” or “dinner made for two;”
I know you say you’re thinking of dear you-know-who,
But keep your kale and eat the lamb,
Just Instagram your love.

I’m sick of selfies, forty-five degrees of space,
The half-seen arm, the posing preen and angled face,
And all the friends who fit into a tight embrace—
I do not care about the sight-seen background place,
Just please adjust your camera-hand
And Instagram your love.

I see your pictures of a dress, but I confess
I want to see that wrinkled wrap you had post-rest
That time I captured something that your eyes expressed
But you detested, discarded with “I look a mess!”
Forget about your filter-tan:
Dear, all it needs is love.

~Michael Danger Caskey

Published in: on November 23, 2014 at 10:15 pm  Leave a Comment  
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