The
Poetry Of Alan King
The
Kiss
over and over again,
I tried
to tell myself that we could
never be more than friends
-Donny Hathaway
Donny and Roberta sing over
whining Cappuccino machines
you scoot close to watch me
finish a crossword puzzle
I fight the urge to
nibble your olive skin
and finger the light looping
your long curly locks
you say the guys you dated
eventually became unavailable
but our friendship
is a caution tape you throw up
when I get too close
so I go for the kiss
in a dream, where our tongues
are revolving doors we keep
sending each other through
top
The
Sweet Urge
for DH
my nerves flair up like a city
at sunset and speed up the blood's
slow traffic at the thought of
being tangled in your boa-limbs
I want to be the heat's moist mouth
sliding down your body, ride a
streetcar winding through the avenues
of your sloping district
your lips are panda orchids
I want to open with a moan;
the warm wet breeze of my tongue
whisking each petal
your body's a kora in the ticklish
grip of eager fingers; a Braille
pattern my hands want to glide
over in the dark
but I'm tired of longing, the way
a heart must feel from drumming
madly at a procession of legs
solid as bedposts; the pulsing calf
muscles bound by sandal straps
I'm sick of longing, sad the way
some guys must feel, eyeing the
beautiful bodies of women they think
they'll never measure up to, fighting
the sweet urge ringing in the blood
top
Saturday
Poem
for AA
you were eager grinning
as the lady behind the counter
poked her beefy forearm
into a jar for the kosher
you pointed out
already over your disappointment
of Eastern Market closing as
we arrived, the used dining room set
you will buy another weekend
you bit into the tart dill
dripping inside the Ziploc said
it was the only thing your parents
could get you to eat
when you were younger
I remember fanning off
sweet and sour breaths
of the flirting schoolgirls
whose fingers were stained
from spicy pink pickles
but there you were, devouring
your sour cucumber your smile
as open as the Henna-inked sky
whose stars the city struggled to rival
with its sequin of streetlights
top
Alan King is a writer living
in the D.C. metropolitan area. His fiction and poems have appeared
in The Arabesques Review, Warpland, Foliate Oak, Nimble, The
Scruffy Dog Review, and Fingernails Across the Chalkboard: Poetry
and Prose onHIV/AIDS. Alan's other publications include Adagio
Verse Quarterly, Ink Stains,Taboo Haiku, and Whimperbang.
A recipient of artist fellowships
from Cave Canem and Vona (Voices of Our Nation), his work was
also part of the Anacostia Exposed, a collaborative exhibit --
showcasing the life and energy of Anacostia -- with Irish photographer
Mervyn Smyth that opened at the Honfleur Gallery in southeast
Washington, D.C. and is currently on display in Northern Ireland.
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