Neil Finn and Crowded House, please forgive me for the plagiarizing of the title of your great song- but I couldn’t think of a better title for today’s NaPoWriMo post. As most of you know, Jon and I spent the last week in New Jersey checking out Rutgers for both their graduate and undergraduate programs in Sociology. New Jersey was, thankfully, FAR better than what I had been led to believe, and in the words of Jon, “neither of us find NJ particularly objectionable.” How’s that for a rousing recommendation for the Garden State? In any case, both of us found NJ tolerable, to say the least, and I think we could both adjust to the state and be happy there. The Sociology department is incredible- welcoming, curious, and intellectually rigerous. It might very well be a good spot for us both.
After we visited NJ, we spent a day in Philadelphia and two days in NY, for “vacation.” My April 2nd (WD NaPoWriMo 4.2) and April 3rd (WD NaPoWriMo 4.3) poems both come from these trips- and for your questionable enjoyment, are presented here for you today. The first poem, A Flimsy Wall, comes from my experience of TWICE being treated to sex from the other side of the wall- New York vacationers who were either wild exhibitionists, porn stars, or merely lustful and unhesitating in the face of one very flimsy wall (Readers beware- explicit content). In this poem I question the seeming universality of certain types of sexual language—how did all of us women end up saying the same thing, anyway? Was there a “dirty talk” handbook passed around at high school graduation? The second poem stays with this theme of the mystery (and frequent deception) behind walls, and is inspired by the photo above, taken from inside Independence Square. (Thanks to Jon for the photo).
Enjoy the poems and the rest of this great Poetry Month!
NaPoWriMo WD 4.2
A Flimsy Wall
Short breath, slight rhythm
punching the late night quiet.
A gasp, hardly-muffled moan
says, yeah baby
that’s it, that’s how I like it
just like that, don’t stop.
A slap, a laugh
harder now, deeper
kissing long and wet
broadcasting passion across 20 feet
I need you inside of me
Fill me up baby
Give it to me now
Eyes closed lips skittering on wet skin
burst of staccata slapping
one and two and three and four
metronome in and out
her breath faster, his shorter.
Exhale.
Laugh.
I love you so much, she says.
NaPoWriMo WD 4.3
Signers
Behind this door, great men
work.
Happiness, they say, and equality for all.
Mostly, for plenty of
money
for the white men
in their wigs and black dresses.
Judges all with pointy shoes and brass buckles
shine like gold
click across marble halls echoing their greatness.
Power
undeserved, honor given and
coerced.
Behind this door, great men
lie.
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