Doctor Fist & Remembrance of Things

In eveningtime, he rests
lying stomachdown, still.
He murmurs a song learned
him in youth:
what’s the suprise you’ve got for me to-day, Lord?
what have you got in store for meeeee, to-day?

Fingernails across guitar strings,
& flute, played by a
woman, gluey-lipped.
Him licks his lips, recalling
those, stirring in his grown body an
adolescent’s erection.
Moves he sightly, accommodating.

Published in issue 4 of Shot Glass Journal.

contact (gpg key)
email: lm @ (the domain)
lmorrissey.info (professional)
lochland.gitlab.io (coding)
All work is CC BY-NC-SA.