Another Distant Asshole

Out there, smoking, on the deep blue sea, dicking
around on the horizon, alive
like that statue of Apollo you met at the Louvre—

I’m in love!

you told your sister, mocked a swoon: those long
white tender arms to splinter
when they hold you, white cock hanging, small
and limp between the marble thighs, white eyes

that you can’t see behind their mirrored
shades. You reach to touch (oh, please!)
the shoulder blades, he grows a pair
of feathered wings and flies away—

always somewhere else to be, some other
fool who’s watching
from the shoreline of her empty bed—

empty mailbox, empty call list, empty head
so full of him: the tender, the untouchable

long limbs, the downcast eyes that brim
with something, what is this thing
he’s hiding? Oh, those eyes are deep
as shallow pools of stagnant water, yielding nothing
but another long horizon, melting fast

into the sky: and there’s my love (the one
whose skin alights beneath my dirty hands) and I
half-hidden in the salty sea, by the waves’
unbidden plea: that’s you. That’s me.

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About evanduyne

I'm assistant professor of writing at Stockton University, where I'm also affiliated faculty in the Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies program. I work on Sylvia Plath, contingent faculty, and creative writing around trauma and domestic violence.
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One Response to Another Distant Asshole

  1. beautiful Em. I love the imagery. I took my shoes off halfway through the poem 🙂

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