Michael Carmody




i like to think back to when
silence was to penetrate. nobody
asked questions; gave up
their ears to vibrations, nothing
orgasmic or even thoughtful
about it.


if anyone protested, they were left


no stimulation, spinning
in rhythmic gesticulations—tongue,
no tongue; cold hands
and even colder hearts,
two crocodiles biting one
to tease out
future plans on a glass bed in a room filled
with kerosene in a world
that wants to burn
through it all.




she slapped me:
“fuck with your eyes, not with your hands.”


i obliged, looked at her like a meal
i couldn’t eat and said,


“can you say that again
  only more poetic?”

Euphemism Campus Box 4240 Illinois State University, Normal, IL 61790-4240