Order this writing in the collection book Bending the Curve available for only 1495 |
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Order this writing in the collection book Dark Matter available for only 1495 |
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This appears in a pre-2010 issue
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Human On My Faithless Arm
David Thompson
I didn’t recognize the name Wystan
when he introduced himself to me
up on deck.
I was very young then,
sailing to England for the first time.
Lonely and up for adventure,
I accepted his invitation to tea
in his cabin though he wasn’t my type,
too old and almost comically jowly.
He sat very close, handed me
a sheet of fine onionskin
and began to rub my shoulders.
I’m a poet, he said.
Do you like this?
After I read the opening lines,
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm,
I answered him with a slow kiss,
let him push me down gently
on his soft, unmade bed.