Inward Images
Your hair hangs
thick and tangled
over the soft cheek
its ridge of bone smoothed
by years of smiles
the blonde ends brush
your nose, glis-
ten with perspiration,
cover the curve
of half your lips
so set, so strident
determined in desire
one liquid green eye
imparts immediacy
infects me with sexiness
brazen stare emboldened
by my paeans of lust
clutched in your left hand
slightly parted lips
show teeth wet,
gleam hungry
to feel the press
of my mouth on yours
flannel redplaid shirt
threadbare in sunlight
half-open exposes
skin slick with sweat
and shower-remnants
fragrant soap, shampoo
still clings
like faint soy on your breath
from last night’s stir-fry
one light touch
of Eastern mystic innocence
forward, you lean to me
to speak of things
best left unsaid yet beaten
in my poems, dragged
into sunlight harsh and barren
relief that someone understands
unspoken passion’s pain
relief that lust is understood
and not suppressed,
relief you showed me
one night in the rain,
making glorious love
on my car’s hatchback
mouth to breast
and waist to waist
but in its mist dissected
emotion bleeds in those poems
post-mortem feelings
you never had to speak
or show, your poetry
poured its pain
into my cup
and once again
I saw into your friendly fears
dissected you in poetry
where you can’t hide
held in my thoughts
I lean to touch you
kiss your knee
with the reverence
of a sacrificed messiah
whose whole life has been spent
with bowed head
you call me a teacher
and you call me your lover
I can only tell you
that in our poetry
they are one
and the same
Author Bio:
Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry just outside Cleveland, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Wildflower Muse, Noble/Gas Qtrly, and The Ibis Head Review, among others.