Telephone: Hysterical Reveries
You settled in your kitchen
the one time we drank liquor,
furious that I was lost.
You yelled and wept and drank more.
I thought more fucking would help us.
When you quieted, we tried.
Your cunt on top of me said,
Yes, but the rest of you sour, No.
We fucked and fucked and fucked, stopped.
You stood up and I followed,
stopping, sticking my right foot
onto the sharp metal stop
of the old dial phone ringing.
On my left side
I dream I plan
To fuck old Gram
She’s into it
Softly shyly
Welcoming me
Into her cunt
For a long ride
Spelling her needs
With consonants
Her age appears
When she comes hard
Grabbing me with
Every muscle
Connected to
Her cunt and mouth
Goodbye she cries
And dies happy
And I die fine
©2021 Alan Bern All rights reserved.
Retired librarian Alan Bern’s poetry books: No no the saddest and Waterwalking in Berkeley, Fithian Press; greater distance, Lines & Faces, his broadside press with artist/printer Robert Woods, linesandfaces.com. Alan has had poems, stories, and photos published in a wide variety of online and print publications, from which his work has won awards and been nominated for Pushcart Prizes. Alan performs with dancer/choreographer Lucinda Weaver as PACES: dance & poetry fit to the space and with musicians from Composing Together, composingtogether.org.
