To Boy Danny


[portrait of Andre Salmon by Moise Kisling, 1912]

To Boy Danny

Hey boy,

I’m misty, boy,

Yeah I’m misty

Twisting snake of a


I undulate

Just for you.

My sweet mouth

Waits for your taste,

Boy, sweet boy,

What are you doing


I see you know.

You eye my crust.

Don’t tell now, ok?

Just come over here.

My breath hots you up.

Don’t pretend;

For dinosaur years

I’ve seen that flush.

You want my flesh,

My ash-ridden, brown leather


You’re just like them all

With your hot flush,


Your eyes suck for more,

You know, boy, you know,

You could cry at me,

Couldn’t you?

Don’t pity me now, ok?

For dinosaur years

I’ve flicked my ash

On sleeping trash

Of genitals with arms

And legs.

Sure, I’ll dance for you,

Squeeze my used body

To places you like.

Do you want that?

Do you want that, boy?

You can’t look at me,

I spare you that.

You would drown,

Little boy,

If you saw me,

So I shade my eyes

And sway my black,

So you don’t have to look,

Not yet.

You know, boy . . .

One day your mirror

Will spill your black.

Your black,

Then come back, boy,

I’ll wipe the ash

From you,

Sweet boy.



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